Time is Short
by TopHatSnoo
Summary: Set at the conclusion of the 2004 film Christine realizes that she cannot leave things as they were. She makes an impulse decision to return to The Phantom. This story follows the drama that ensues following Christine's decision. Will she find him before anyone else does? Will they make it out in time?
1. Chapter 1

The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux (even though we know he was real...) and Andrew Lloyd Weber.

First story! Its rated M due to some violence. Please let me know what you think and whether i should continue!

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><p>"What? What are you doing, Christine?"<p>

Christine looked up at Raoul after she had jumped out of the boat. The truth was that she didn't know _what_ she was doing. She hadn't thought anything through at all. The events which followed the performance of Don Juan Triumphant were a haze, a whirlwind of chaos which hadn't stopped spinning up until this moment. Jumping out of the boat had been an action more out of impulse and the realization seemed to hit her only as she was speaking the words;

"I.. cant leave him." She said in response. Raoul struggled to slow the boat before bringing it to a stop. He stared at her, knowing what she had said but asking her to repeat it.

"What are you talking about, Christine? Get back in the boat, quickly!" Raoul yelled, The Phantom's words ringing in his ears.

_Don't let them find you._ He had been talking about the mob that had followed them down there.

He held out his arm. He looked down to her, his eyes pleading. Part of him knew that this was the end. Even after all this. They had been so close to escaping but he still had a power over her that he could never hope to understand.

"I'm sorry." She said decidedly, with tears in her eyes. She had to follow through with this impulse even if she did not yet understand it herself.

Raoul withdrew his hand slightly.

"You have to go; heaven knows what those people will do to anyone thy find down here." She knew of course that The Vicomte would be safe.

"Christine... You can't be saying this."Raoul replied through visible distress; the reality of the situation finally dawning on him. "It is not safe here, you can't expect me to leave you? Leave you to go back to him; that madman? He is a murderer Christine, he almost killed me! I could never forgive myself should something happen to you! How could I..."

"Raoul!" she cut him off, frustrated. "There isn't time to explain this now. I just... I cant leave him like that. Not after everything. You must go!" Christine was getting anxious. How could she be expected to argue this with him when there was so much on her mind that she could not comprehend?

"Do you love him"?

"I... I don't know... Raoul... Just please, time is short. I will find a way to contact you when it is safe but you must go. Trust me when I say that I will be alright."

Their eyes were locked together; filled with tears and words that could not be spoken.

"Christine... I... How can I leave you here?" He asked, finally reaching acceptance but forcing the words out of his mouth. "I could be damning you."

"I will be alright." She repeated, smiling. Not altogether sure that she would be. "This isn't goodbye."

He smiled weakly at her, knowing that when she contacted him again it most likely _would be_ goodbye.

"Be safe, Christine. I don't trust him. Just... be safe."

"Thank you." She said.

He bent down and hugged her. "I love you."

She wanted to say it back. She did love him... but in what way? Only an hour ago she had been sure, but that was before the kiss she had shared with her Angel. She pulled away.

"Go." She said gently. "I will contact you soon."

Christine had already begun to make her way through the murky water in the opposite direction when Raoul shouted to her.

"I love you!" At this she felt a stab of pain In her heart. What was she doing? Where was she going? She loved Raoul and she was hurting him, but what about The Phantom? The look in his eyes when she had given him back the ring would haunt her for the rest of her days if she did not return. What about the kiss? What she felt about that was surely not guilt. Suddenly she began to move with more urgency. Time was too short to be thinking on this now. She had to find The Phantom; her Angel of Music. Had he already left? Had he done something to himself in her wake? She remembered the look in his eyes and thought that a possibility. She had to hope for the best. How had she been so selfish? After all he had done for her she had betrayed him and broken his heart. She cursed herself and hoped that it was not too late to repair the damage and at the very least apologize for everything; leave things on better terms... maybe even form a friendship.

She ran through the knee-high water as quickly as she could, holding the skirts of her wedding dress in hand as she went. She was against the clock. Not only was she concerned that The Phantom had already left; she also held concerns for his and her own safety at the hands of the mob that couldn't be far behind. What if he had already left... what would she do?

Her panic rose as she ran. Thoughts and fears were running through her head; Horrible scenarios playing out in her mind. Finally she reached the portcullis which mere moments ago her fiancé had been tied to. She pushed the thought out of her mind for now.

_Later._

"Angel?!" she yelled in a dire state of anxiety.

"Angel! Are you there? It's me! Please... If you are there, answer me!"


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews! You post something and you don't even know if anyone will read it (being a newbie on here) let alone enjoy it. Thank you PhantomFan01 and cmol8806. I'm honored that your are even reading this!

Here is chapter 2! I really enjoyed writing this one!

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber

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><p>The Phantom was wracked with sobs, sitting exactly where Christine had left him. He was still holding the ring she had returned to him, turning it over and over in his fingers.<p>

_Why did she return it?_

_She was being polite. _

_She was returning what wasn't __hers. _

_But it wasn't __yours either?_

_She was rejecting your offer, of course. Why else would she return it?_

_Maybe..._

_No. No maybe. She left. She left you. She didn't __want the ring._

_She didn't __have to come back at all._

_She came back to end it. It's over. Now get up, you have to leave._

Thoughts raced through his mind as he tried to make sense of what had happened; tried looking at it from different angles so as to find one that suited him but try as his brilliant mind might, he could not. He had lost. He had lost her. He had done the right thing. Better that he is suffering than her on his account.

Part of him no longer cared what became of him; nothing mattered, but part of him still held some childish fear at the consequences of staying where he was. He was distraught and out of his mind with grief but eventually fear got the better of him.

Standing up, he slipped the ring into his pocket. He walked towards the mantelpiece, roughly wiping his nose and tears with the sleeves of his shirt. Sniffing, he turned, picked up a heavy candelabrum and with all his strength swung it at one of the offending mirrors facing him. It had occurred to him that he would have to smash one of his mirrors to escape; it bore entrance to a hidden passage which led out of his current prison and most likely into another kind. If he smashed enough mirrors his pursuers might not suspect which was actually a doorway; effectively buying him time.

He swung the candelabrum into a second mirror, sending shards of reflective glass to the floor. He smirked. To him, mirrors had always looked much better in pieces. He lifted a curtain revealing a third mirror and stared at it, allowing himself a few more moments of hope. He looked around at what had been his home for over a decade. This had been his prison as well as his sanctuary. This was where she knew to find him- if he left she truly would be lost to him. He stood there gripping the candelabrum; his freedom. His knuckles turning white from his vice- like grip.

_Maybe I should wait?_

_There isn't __time._

_If I leave it will truly be over._

_It was over the moment she kissed you. _

He looked down expectantly at the candelabrum almost beseeching this object to make the decision for him. He looked up at the mirror, his reflection confirming what he already knew. Finally he took a deep breath and swung at the final mirror; his doorway to a new life and undoubtedly a whole new set of problems.

It did not break. It only shattered. He looked up at his failed attempt and scoffed.

_Of course._

His reflection was more abstracted than usual due to the shattered glass and he knew he had made the right decision.

_Over._

Just as he was about to take the final swing he heard something that shook him out of his self- destructive state.

"Angel?" It cried. The sound floating over the lake to reach his ears. He turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion.

_Christine?_

_You're imagining things. You have actually gone more insane than you already were._

Was it her? Surely he was not that delirious.

"Angel! Are you there? It's me! Please... If you are there, answer me!"

It was Christine! There was no doubt about it! Why was she here? There was no time to waste! The mob would be there at any second and if anything were to happen to her on his account he would gladly let them finish him off; end his miserable life once and for all.

"Christine!" He yelled, confused but immediately concerned for her safety. He swiftly dropped the candelabrum and rushed towards the source of the heavenly sound. She came into sight as he waded back through the knee deep water.

_It was true! It was her!_

"Christine!" He repeated, desperation in his voice. "What are you doing here?!"

Finally he came into view

_Thank god. He's alright._

"Angel! Thank god!" she yelled at him through the portcullis. She had tears in her eyes and as The Phantom got closer to her she realized that he did too.

"Your'e alive!" she cried.

Finally he reached her and in his desperation, forgot himself and held her hands through the gate.

"What are you doing here?! It's not safe, Christine."

She looked into his desperate blue eyes and saw a mixture of very human emotions; sadness, regret, hope... Up until recently she had not thought of him as a man; a human. She was so distracted by the presence of these foreign attributes that she had forgotten he had asked her a question. His eyes were repeating it over and over and searching her features for a response.

_Why?_

"I... I don't know. I had to see you."

He stared at her, his gaze intensifying, searching her for answers once more; this time almost demanding them. She could feel the power of his gaze; it bore into her and she could not look away.

"I don't know what I feel..." She managed. "I don't understand it yet... but I had to come."

The Phantom felt a warm sensation inside of him that he had not experiences since she had first taken his hand that night months ago; her first journey down to his world. He had come to recognize this as hope. He smiled inwardly.

They stared at one another for a moment which felt like an eternity. This was the first time they had stood in front of each other as people, just people. He seemed so human and yet he was able to hold her with his gaze. At this moment thoughts of Raoul and the outside world seemed so far away. She was back under his spell and as she stared into his eyes she realized that she didn't want to be anywhere else. His eyes held so much emotion but Christine was not given time to identify anything as he abruptly spoke, his voice low and purposeful.

"We have to go, Christine."


	3. Chapter 3

Phantom belongs to Gaston Lerox and Andrew Lloyd Weber

Again, thanks so much for the reviews, follows and favorites! They mean so much.

Here's chapter 3. Enjoy!

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><p>"We have to go, Christine."<p>

His voice betrayed him and allowed a hint of panic, another characteristic which was strangely human. His tone knocked her out of her reverie and she looked away.

"I know. The mob; they could be coming at any second." She replied, her panic surpassing his.

Not letting go of her hands he looked behind him and cursed himself. In his haste he had neglected to pull the lever allowing the portcullis to rise. He looked back to Christine. Her eyes followed his every movement, reading his mind and pleading for him to hurry, to find a solution; to fix this.

_There isn't time. _His eyes said. The lever was too far away.

He looked down at the murky water surrounding them, rippling with their movement. Usually he found the sound relaxing, but now it served only to irritate him; a constant reminder of where he was and the pressing time which only served to ruin his reunion. Knowing he might only have moments left The Phantom bent down and took a firm grip on the gate. He had never lifted it by hand before but there was no other option.

With all his might he began pulling upwards. Christine stepped back. She looked behind her and although she could not yet hear or see anything, a sense of foreboding was settled heavily in her stomach and was beginning to rise. She could almost imagine their shadows looming around the corner. What if there wasn't time to escape? She hadn't really thought about what those people were capable of. All of a sudden a surge of overwhelming fear washed over her; she feared for her life, but more for her Angel's; which came as somewhat of a surprise to her.

With this she stepped forward and tried to offer what little assistance she could. The Phantom strained; the portcullis gate was unbelievably heavy but he was strong. Years of climbing ropes and stairs had seen to that. More than that, Christine's life was at stake.

To the relief of both Christine and The Phantom the gate began to move.

"Good." He smiled through gritted teeth, a slight hint of relief in his voice. "Keep pulling."

Christine was convinced that she had had little or nothing to do with this triumph, and that he knew this but she was elated just the same.

_One step at a time._

A few more seconds of straining and It was up. He held It above his head while she rushed underneath it and dropped it as soon as he could. He stared at her, both of them out of breath.

To his surprise she embraced him immediately, holding him tightly and sighing with relief. Mostly unused to contact, The Phantom did not return it at first. He inhaled steeply at the sudden contact and Christine either did not notice or pretended not to. She seemed completely oblivious to his apprehension, thankfully. She seemed oblivious to everything around her. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her in return and tightened his hold.

Unlike Christine, The Phantom knew exactly what was happening and exactly where he was and was completely beguiled by the situation. Although he did not quite understand the meaning of her actions he allowed himself to be, for the moment lost in the complete bliss of what was happening to him. For years he had dreamed of this moment with his Christine, a point in time and trust where she would willingly embrace him and lose herself in the action as she was now. As a child he had yearned for the physical contact of others; for a simple embrace that others took so for granted, for a pat on the back, a touch on the arm, a kiss... As he grew older he began to stop needing these things, needing the affection of others; He began telling himself that he would never have them and in doing so destroyed any childish need for approval or attention. Although he knew he would never be like everyone else, he became sated with the semblance of a life he lived. The world taught him he could never have the things he so wished for; so he stopped wishing. _They_ wanted a Ghost, a Phantom... and that is what he became.

And then that kiss...

That kiss which he told himself he would never be allowed to have had broken down the walls he had spent a lifetime building. The kiss had broken down his barriers and now this... this was his redemption. This was the world telling him that all his life he had been wrong; maybe he had a chance at happiness.

Just maybe.

At last he began to relax. Forgetting himself he buried his face in her chocolate curls, taking in this gloriously surreal moment in time- even if it was to be the only one he would have. This was their first encounter that was honest and unhindered by stories, facades and complications. Neither of them spoke; they were at last just a man and woman sharing an embrace.

It would not have been broken if not for the sudden yell which echoed though the caverns and The Phantoms reverie.

They broke apart.

"They're coming."He uttered the words Christine was dreading. "We must make haste." He told her sternly. She noticed his demeanor immediately change. He was tense, like an animal readying for combat, his gaze so intense that it might have burned a hole in the portcullis gate that had shut behind them. He did not look at her; his unwavering focus was on the cavern behind her. It was as if someone had pulled a lever and he was The Phantom again.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Come." He looked at her and offered his hand.

After a stab of déjà vu she hastily took it and they rushed to the embankment, their pace quickening as the depth of water decreased.

Another yell sounded from somewhere within the cavern.

"This way!" It said in an unfamiliar and harsh voice. It was closer and clearer than the last.

"They're close now." The Phantom whispered to a clearly panic stricken Christine. He turned to her as they reached the embankment.

"I'm..." She began a little too loudly but was silenced as a finger was placed over her lips.

_Shh. _He mouthed.

"I'm scared." She whispered, looking up at him for support. Had she made the right decision?

_He is all you have right now._

_Do you trust him?_ _Do you even know him?_

"Do you trust me?" he asked, as if reading her mind. He held out his hand once more, the other clasping a cape he had picked up in his haste.

_We are running out of time._

_I'm in love with you._

_We are running out of time._

_Please say yes._

"Do you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber.

Are my chapters too short? Anyway here is number four!

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><p>"Do you?" he repeated, his sharpened tone slightly frightening her.<p>

"Stand back, Christine." Whether she trusted him or not it was too late for her to change her mind. Many of his usual passages were engulfed in flames and there was no way he was going to let her take her chances with the mob. No, he would simply have to force her to join him once again and then release her... once again...

He sighed.

_Please say yes._

He picked up the candelabrum he had carelessly dropped to the ground, this time in a completely different emotional place but panicked all the same.

"What... what are you doing? Won't they hear us?" She whispered.

"Yes." He looked at her. "I had meant to do it sooner... But we have no other option now. Besides, a noise like this could come from anywhere; the floors above are in flames by now."

With a nod from Christine, he stepped up to the threshold and smashed the final mirror; the last barrier between the outside world and himself, between his old and new life. The mirror shards fell to the floor, a brief but brilliant display of light as they fell. Christine jumped with surprise at the action. The alarm evident on her face as The Phantom turned to her once more.

"We haven't any time left." He said to her, trying to retain his calm, purposeful demeanor for her sake. He held out his hand a final time. His intense gaze shifted from Christine to the cavern behind her as silhouettes of the mob could now be seen littering the passageway. Their yells and torches promised violence as they approached.

Christine stared at The Phantom a moment longer before taking his hand. He allowed himself a small smile and before she could take a step he had seized her decision and whisked her up into his arms; remembering the glass and the fact that she had not been wearing shoes when he had dragged her down there...

_Dragged her..._

_No time to think on that now._

She held tightly onto his neck as he stepped through the threshold, pulling a curtain to cover the doorway as he went. The shards of glass crunched under his boots. The mob had almost reached the portcullis by now.

_It won't be long until they realize they can lift it._

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><p>The silence and darkness of the cavern seemed to swallow them whole as they entered it.<p>

"This will be frightening for you." He said softly as he noticed her grip on him tighten. "Your eyes have not yet adjusted to the darkness as mine have. It will be a while before you are able to see. You must trust me."

"I do." She replied, holding onto the sound of his voice as if it were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. She had always done just that. His voice had been there for her during her darkest hour.

She had arrived The Opera as a child, shortly after her father had died. Her father had been everything to her; the loss was great and the chaotic atmosphere of the Opera only forced her to withdraw further within herself. Her Angel had been her savior then as he was now.

The Phantom smiled inwardly. If nothing else, it was all for this moment. He was physically closer to Christine than he ever had been or had ever hoped to be. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, her soft curls caressing the skin of his chest and at this moment his fondness for the darkness was more than it ever had been, for it hid the small smile which was beginning to outwardly show on his face.

"Will they find us?"She whimpered after a minute or so of walking, once she was sure their pursuers would not hear.

"Don't be afraid, Christine. I would die before I let anything befall you."

She remained silent.

"Perhaps you underestimate your company..." He added with a smirk which was of course, not visible.

Had she been better acquainted with him she would have laughed, for she was convinced that this had been his attempt at humor. She also refrained from speaking because what he had said had made her slightly uneasy. She did _not_ underestimate him; she_knew_ what he was capable of. She had seen it for herself and it conjured up issues, memories and questions that she was not yet ready to face. Instead, she changed the subject.

"Thank you for carrying me." She said modestly.

"That's quite alright, Christine." He replied plainly. He was obviously not prepared to go any deeper than pleasantries either.

"You're not tired?"

"It's perfectly tolerable. I'd rather be a little uncomfortable than have you injure yourself."

"Yes." She said awkwardly. There was so much that needed to be spoken between them and they both knew it. It seemed an absurdly ordinary conversation for such a situation.

"At least let me take the cape." She offered, noticing that he had been holding both the cape and her for some time. He let go of it and she took it, holding it against them both.

_His cape. _

This piece of clothing had become much more than just a piece of clothing; it had become part of her image of him; the Angel, father, Phantom persona she had pieced together. It seemed surreal to be holding it in her hands but for what particular reason, she could not fathom.

After a few more twists and turns they came to a small room. The walls were that of the rest of the caverns save for a small amount of moss on the ground and cobwebs which littered most of the corners. Thankfully, Christine could not see this.

"We should be safe here, for now." He said.

The Phantom walked in and set Christine down.

"Wait... what do you mean?!" She asked, reluctant to let go of him. The floor was cold and she could not yet see. "Why can't we leave now? Just go?" She was getting more and more anxious with each word.

He held her shoulders gently, trying to calm her.

"Shh... We must stay here for a few hours. After that we can leave. I haven't travelled this way in some time; usually I exit on the Rue Scribe side, but the Opera is no doubt being surrounded by Gendarme as we speak. This way allows us to exit further away but I don't know these caverns as well as I used to. If we are ahead of them and hit a dead end we could be found." He reasoned.

"But..."

"We must wait for them either to get lost, give up or be satisfied with finding nothing. It is too dangerous at the moment. After we hear them leave, we can go."

To this she seemed to reluctantly acquiesce.

"I'm so scared." She whispered, her voice cracking up.

She started to cry.

_Oh no._

Comforting was not something The Phantom was exactly accustomed to and he wasn't sure what to do.

_Do people get used to this?_

Thankfully, he had to do very little. She rested her head against his chest and cried. Slowly, like before his arms circled around her form and pulled her closer.

"Don't cry." He soothed. "I don't yet know why you came back but in my company you are safe, always... But we must keep our voices down..."

She looked up at him and while she could not make out much except for an outline, she could_ feel_ him and she felt safe... Safer than she had _ever _felt with Raoul.

"Come, let's sit down." He said.

"...Alright." She replied, sniffing and wiping her tears with her hands. He led her to one of the walls.

"Wait a moment." He let go of her hands and quickly brushed away a series of cobwebs that stretched out behind her.

"Alright." He said, holding her hands again as she sat down against the wall. She was cold but did not want to plague him with more worry.

Without speaking he sat down next to her and wrapped the cape she had been holding around her shoulders gently. She hadn't thought of actually wearing it...

"Thank you." She said gratefully and pulled it tightly around her.

He sat back with his arms resting on his knees and exhaled.

_Now we wait._

_Now we talk._

_Now it begins._

"Aren't you cold?" She asked

"What?" He almost laughed. He had been expecting her first question to be more along the lines of 'How many people have you killed?' or even 'When can I leave?'

"You're only wearing a shirt and you're still wet?"Christine questioned, genuinely concerned.

"I have grown accustomed to the cold, my dear." He replied, his tone short.

_If only she knew._

She wasn't convinced but his tone told her not to pursue his response. There seemed to be a lot of emotion attached to this statement and it didn't seem as if he was looking to expand on it. He seemed to go in and out of this 'Phantom' character at will...

There was silence. Now that they were finally alone together; had the time to speak to one another neither of them knew quite what to say, where to start. The awkward atmosphere was palpable, the tension; visible. So many questions and concerns lingered in the air.

Finally The Phantom voiced one of them; a question which had plagued him since she had returned. Why not start there?

"Why did you return?"

Christine froze. She wasn't prepared to answer this at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber.

So, a longer chapter this time. Finally Christine and The Phantom get some time to discuss some of what has happened.

Again, thank you for all the reviews, follows etc, they really, really help. Also thank you to the people who are reading and not reviewing... because i had always been one of those people. As long as you are reading and enjoying, that's all that matters :)

So, without further ado... on with Phanty!

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><p>"I don't know..." She began. She could feel his immediate disappointment at her answer.<p>

"Well... that is to say... I was not altogether sure when I first made the decision. At first all I knew is that I couldn't simply leave you here. After all that had happened; all that you had done for me... and how I treated you."

He listened.

_So it was only pity._

"I couldn't bear to leave you not knowing whether or not you would be safe."

Disappointment struck him. Soon she would be on her way back to her Vicomte. She had only returned to ensure that he was alive.

_How could you be so ignorant? You lost, remember? She chose him._

To The Phantom's surprise Christine continued.

"...But as I got closer to your home I found myself to be increasingly concerned with your safety. Your safety over mine! I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you."

_My safety? What should my safety matter to her?_

_Pity. Pity is all it is. All it ever was._

_Unless..._

_No. This conversation is not going where you think it is. Don't get your hopes up._

"Christine you should never be concerned with my safety over your own... I'm n..."

"Wait I'm... I'm not finished." She silenced him, a little surprised with how forthright she was being with him.

"I began to ask myself why I was so concerned. It wasn't pity and it wasn't out of guilt that I was returning. I knew that."

_So then..._

"When I finally saw you I... sort of realized."

At this moment The Phantom allowed himself to hope. For fear of shattering the illusion of happiness in which he had lived for the past hour he dared not ask the question that he so desperately wanted to. He could not possibly bear to subject himself to such heartache a second time.

_Just ask._

"...Realized what?"

There. It was done. Before he realized what he was doing the words had left his mouth and they were out in the open. The hard part was over.

It was not until Christine responded did he realize he had been holding his breath.

"...That I may have made the wrong choice."

She turned to what she could now ascertain to be the outline of his face.

"That I did feel something for you."

_What...?_

She stopped speaking, suddenly conscious of what she had admitted aloud.

"Feel... something?" he apprehensively repeated, inwardly cursing himself at how clumsy his speech suddenly sounded.

"What... What did you feel?" He probed.

_No! Why? Why did you push it? Just be happy with what you have!_

He was already condemning himself before she could answer.

"...Love." she said hesitantly.

At that moment he thought he might faint. His chest felt as though it might explode. His head was spinning; giddy with the thought and he couldn't speak.

"...Love?" he asked; the pitch of his voice higher than he would have liked. He cleared his throat.

"And... what of the boy?" he asked in a curt tone; His mind trying to reason with what he had just heard before he could allow himself to be lost in the moment; a moment he didn't think he deserved.

"I... love Raoul... and I thought I wanted to marry him. I still did when I left to find you but now... after spending this time with you; this short amount of time... I just can't see myself marrying him. I love him and I always have but it took all of _this_ to realize what sort of love that actually was."

"And what sort was that?"

"The love of a friend... I don't know. So much has happened and I have had such little time to process it all but I am sure of one thing; this is where I want to be."

"Well, not here exactly."She joked, receiving a small chuckle from The Phantom for her efforts.

She felt for his hand and held it; again, not noticing his steep intake of breath at her touch.

She was holding his hand _willingly_. He did not speak; he could not. If Christine's eyes were properly adjusted to the darkness she would have noticed the tears that had formed in her Angel's eyes.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry for all that I put you through. I was stupid and selfish and... No matter what happens tonight, I'll know that I finally made a choice true to my heart. Can you ever hope to forgive me?"

He stared at her; still unable to process what had just happened. He looked from her hand holding his, to her expectant face and realized that he had to speak.

He cleared his throat so that his voice would not betray him and reveal emotion.

_Like that matters after your display earlier._

He would never let himself get to that state again.

"There... There is nothing to forgive, mon ange." His voice was deep and filled with all the emotion he had been trying to hide. "It is I who should be asking for your forgiveness. The way I behaved... I was quite overcome with grief and I..."

"It's alright, Angel; don't distress. We will have all the time in the time in the world later to talk through what happened. You don't need to explain anything now but I need to know something; have your feelings for me changed? What you said tonight... do you still mean it?"

_Christine, I love you._

"Christine, of course!" he responded with enthusiasm. How could she think otherwise?

"I'm just... overcome with everything at the moment. The things you're saying... Even the fact that you're sitting here with me; we are talking as if we are just two regular people."

"We are." She interrupted.

"It's just... I had prepared myself for this moment over and over. Only now that you've finally said the words I have been waiting to hear I can't express any of what I'm feeling. A trait of someone with little to no human contact, I expect." He mused.

She smiled, awkwardly.

"I'm sorry." She didn't know how to react when he said things like that. He was so complex.

He squeezed her hand in response but did not speak. Again, she looked at him expectantly.

"But... I do. Of course I do. You must know how that what I feel for you is not something that can diminish over a few short hours; regardless of what transpired during those hours."

To this Christine smiled. A smile which seemed to light up the whole room whenever he saw it; and this one was for him. He had always loved her smile; he had seen it many times over the years but always from a distance; behind a mirror, from far away in the auditorium, from the rafters above the stage, on the rooftop...

"Angel?" She began, pulling him from his memories and the dark abyss that he was sure to spiral down afterwards. "What is your name?"

"My name." He repeated, not expecting the question.

"Well, it wouldn't be fitting to call you Angel anymore, would it? Or would you prefer Phantom? Opera Ghost perhaps?" She teased.

He laughed quietly; another sound which would take getting used to.

"Christine." He warned.

"Well?" She smiled at him expectantly.

He fell silent before absentmindedly speaking. "It's just been a long time since I have used it."

"What is it?" She asked, growing impatient.

"It's... Erik."He finally said.

"Erik." She repeated, tasting it on her tongue. She had of course assumed he had a name. Everyone did... Didn't they? It was surreal to be able to give an identity to this nameless force which had been such a strong presence in her life. He was finally a person, this was a step further; another puzzle piece to the mystery that was this man.

"I like the way you say it." He said.

"It suits you."

He smiled. For him, this name had always been associated with his childhood and therefore nothing but pain, misunderstanding and hatred. Perhaps the more it was spoken from the lips of his Christine, the more it would redeem itself; the more _he_ would redeem himself.

"It's not a French name... were you born here?"

"Yes, I was born here."

_If you could call it that._

"Why don't you use it?" She asked him innocently.

_Where to start?_

"Many reasons... many memories..."

Christine could tell from his vague response that he was reluctant to continue but there would be plenty of time to get to know him, to learn him.

"Maybe you will share them with me... one day." She offered, trying to sound as amiable as possible.

_One day._ Was that a promise of a future between them?

Hope. That feeling. There it was again.

"Yes." Was all he could say, cautiously positive.

_I would give you the world, Christine. You need only ask._

"You should sleep." He began. "You must be exhausted after all I put you through. I want to begin making up for my behavior and the only way I can do that at this moment is to let you get some rest. It is the least I can do. I'll keep watch."

She looked at him.

"I'm the one who behaved terribly Ang... Erik." She had to get used to using his name.

He smiled awkwardly, acknowledging her effort.

"And... aren't you tired? You've been through just as much as me, maybe more."

"It's fine. I don't sleep much. Rest. I'll wake you in two hours or so." He persuaded.

She sighed. "Well... I am tired but I don't think I could rest knowing that they are in here somewhere looking for us."

"They're looking for me, but it will be safe. I have a very keen sense of hearing and I will wake you should they approach."

After a moment she spoke.

"Alright but at least share this cape with me. It _is_ yours after all and I can't have you freezing to death on my account."

He _was_ beginning to feel the cold but was loath to admit it.

"Alright." He said quietly.

She moved closer to him and he stiffened. The proximity was real; _very_ real. Christine removed the right side of the cape and handed it to him. He had begun to wrap it around himself awkwardly when she moved closer still. He looked at her.

"What... what are you doing?" He asked, genuinely perplexed.

She smiled. "I'm keeping warm." They both knew that she was doing more than that.

"Relax." she said as she rested her head on his shoulder.

_What is she doing?_

_Hold her._

Erik's hands remained in his lap.

_Hold her, you great clod!_

Christine could see that his arm wasn't going to move so she pulled his left arm around her. Thankfully he caught on quickly and immediately tightened his grip around her as if someone might take what he had finally acquired away from him. With that, she moved in closer still and wrapped her hands around his waist.

As The Phantom, Erik had maintained a certain presence of confidence. When Christine had first ventured down to his world he had seemed utterly in control; powerful and knowing. Now, as Christine rested her head on his shoulder for the first time she realized that there was another side to him; somewhat shy, inexperienced, forever doubting his deserving of anything great that befell him.

It dawned on her that he may very well have had little to no physical contact previous to tonight.

At this point Erik could not contain his happiness and was visibly smiling.

_Finally._

He had waited an eternity for this and for once in his life he felt normal.

Neither of them spoke but at that moment they were both contented regardless of their surroundings and whatever this night held in store for them.

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><p>Soon enough Christine was asleep; her head against Erik's shoulder as if it always had been there. He wished he could somehow capture this moment so that he might re-visit it at will. He didn't know how long it would last or if anything this marvelous would ever befall him again. Truthfully he didn't know what this night held in store for them. He usually trusted his own judgement but the short delay back in his home could have cost them dearly. For all he knew this could be the first and last time he holds Christine or feels happiness; the last time fate allows him that foreign sensation of hope.<p>

_Make it count._

Carefully, Erik pulled Christine close and closed his eyes, revelling in her warmth. Never had he felt so contented and in spite of his promise, he could not help but doze off...


	6. Chapter 6

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber.

Ok, so this is a short one but the next one is going to be quite long. Such suspense! This is so much fun to write!

Thank you to my reviewers! :)

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><p>He awoke to Christine frantically whispering his name.<p>

"Erik!"

"Mmm..."

"Erik! Wake up." She shook him.

"ERIK!" She whispered loudly to which he jumped awake and rubbed his eyes; momentarily forgetting where he was. "You fell asleep!"

"Oh. Oh no... my god. Christine. I'm so sorry, Christine!" He began shaking his head as the enormity of what he had done began to dawn on him. "I never sleep!"

He looked at her; his eyes anguished.

"I must have dozed off...I... I was so comfortable. I just... I'm so sorry." He began condemning himself and it seemed as though it might be a habit.

"Shh. Its alright."

"No. No its not. I may have damned us. I have failed you, Christine! All I had to do was stay awake!" He put his head in his hands.

"Its alright!" She soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder. She could see that she needed to stop this before he spiraled any further...

"What's the time?" He asked "How long did I sleep for? Do you know? Damn!" He cursed.

"I don't know..." She said in the calmest tone possible so as not to upset him further. "Down here, I can't tell. It didn't feel like we slept for long though."

He was silent for a few moments, his hand to his mouth.

_Thinking?_

"We should go." He stood up abruptly and smoothed back his hair which she suspected to be a nervous habit. He held his hand out to her.

"Wait... But you don't even know how long it has been. Has it been one hour or six?" In spite of herself she took his hand and stood up.

"We will proceed with caution." He said, looking towards the doorway. "Come."

Without releasing her hand he led her to the doorway; a doorway to what had become so much more than just a room. He turned to face her.

"Christine, please listen to me." He began in a calm voice. "If anything should go wrong when we leave this room..."

"I'm not leaving you." She interrupted."So don't even suggest it."

"If anything goes wrong, if anything happens, if... we see them..." He continued, obviously ignoring her protestation and attempt at a stern expression. He looked at her sincerely and held her shoulders gently. "I want you to tell them that I captured you."

"No! I..."

"_And_ if that doesn't work, and there's a good chance that it won't because these probably aren't reasonable people, you run. Alright? As fast as you can. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness while they still have to rely on their torches; that's an advantage."

"No! This isn't _alright_. What you've said isn't an option, Erik... It's no..."

"Christine please... try to understand. I will do my best to protect you; I would kill any man who tried to harm you but there may be a lot of them. I would say that the gendarmerie would have left by now and I don't know whether that's favorable for me or not. I don't know what to expect." At this point he was thinking aloud.

Erik hated nothing more than to be unprepared.

"You're speaking as if we should prepare for the worst?" She asked.

"We should. It's hard to know what could happen." He looked down at her; a sweet yet broken smile playing on his lips, tears forming in his eyes.

The expression on his face made _her_ want to break down in tears but she had to be strong; now more than ever. This wasn't fair! She had finally made the right choice... but she could lose him... and to those savages.

"Erik, listen to me!" She began, grabbing the front of his shirt and slightly pulling at it in her desperation. "They won't just kill you. It would be much worse!"

"I know. That was always going to be a possibility for someone like me." He replied wistfully.

Christine stared at him for a moment before wrapping her arms around him and holding him. This time he actually returned the embrace and they stood together as if it were their last. He drew back and while shaking with nerves and emotion placed a small kiss on her forehead. Before she could react he was already on the move.

"Let's go." He said. He cautiously stuck his head out of the door way with Christine holding onto his arm and peering around him. He could see nothing but the two dark passage ways to his right and left.

_Only one way to go._

He took her hand. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"No... I'm alright."

Seeing through her white lie and disregarding it, he whisked her up anyway as if it were nothing. They walked for a few minutes without speaking. Both were mentally preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

"Are you sure this is the only other way out?" She whispered after a few more minutes of tense silence.

He chuckled slightly. "I've lived here for a long time, Christine."

_If only you knew._

As he walked she could feel the muscles in his chest move beneath her. She blushed as despite her fear she began wondering what it would look like. Of course he was strong; he had lifted the portcullis and had been carrying her without a complaint for as long as she could remember. She stopped herself and hoped dearly that his powers did not stretch as far as telepathy... Her thoughts then turned to guilt; why had she not taken notice of anything about him previous to tonight? She cursed her own selfishness and vowed that if they got out of these caverns, things would change. He deserved so much more than what she had given him; how she had treated him.

As Christine cursed herself for her past actions; Erik was deep in thought as well and his stream of consciousness did not differ all that much from hers. He kept replaying the events in his head; a night which seemed to have occurred weeks ago. No... It was only a few hours ago...

_It was only a few hours ago when you murdered out of pure jealousy._

_A few hours ago when you set the whole building ablaze; your home; your life's work._

_A few hours ago when you dragged her down here with you._

_A few hours ago when you tried to force her to marry you._

_When you almost murdered her fiancé._

_But you let her go._

_You let her go and she came back. _

_She came back and she is risking her life to stay with you._

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. His stomach dropped.

"Do you see that?" He whispered to the woman in his arms.

"What?"

"That faint glow ahead." He put her down and pointed in the direction he had referred to. It was a small glow of light In the distance.

"Oh no. Is it them?" She whispered to him frantically.

"I think so."

_It couldn't be anyone else._

He grabbed her hand and they walked a little further.

"That's enough. You stay where you are." He told her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to have a look" He began to walk away.

"No! Erik, don't leave me!" She begged quietly, refusing to release his hand.

"I'll be right back." He said, walking back to her. "But remember, if anything at all happens, run the other way or hide. Do you understand? You can't risk anything. You agreed, remember?"

She nodded sadly and looked into his eyes.

"I..." He began to speak but it seemed as if his breath caught in his throat. Christine looked up at him expectantly. "I... I'll be right back." He repeated. She could have sworn that he was about to say something else. Perhaps he wasn't going to risk saying those words again. Not yet. Not after the last time...

_Do you blame him?_

_No..._

He traced her cheek with his thumb and smiled; there was so much love in that small trace of affection that it was even harder to let him go.

"Come straight back." Was all she could muster.

He smiled at her again, and nodded. Although he knew deep down that there was a chance he might not be able to...


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys! So, this is quite a long chapter but i felt like breaking it up would have ruined the rhythm, so to speak, of the narrative. It might be a little longer than you are used to for the chapter after this one because i only have a draft of it at this point.

Also, i don't know who might be reading this... so even though the story is rated M, i should mention that there is a little violence in this chapter. To be expected when reading a Phantom of the Opera fanfic, i suppose!

Thank you again for all the support, when i get a review, a subscriber or a follower it really makes my day. :)

Phanty belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber

I give you chapter 7! Enjoy!

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><p>Slowly, as quietly as he could Erik continued towards the light. Being able to get around unheard was one of his many skills; it had been from a young age. Not that it would have mattered; he was able to hear their gruff voices and raucous laughter long before he could see them. As Erik got closer to the mysterious light source his fears were confirmed; the mob. It <em>was<em> them. They were waiting for _him._

They weren't making any efforts to keep quiet at all- why should they? Finally he reached them and keeping himself close to the wall so as to prevent being seen (as was his usual prerogative) he carefully peered in. Here, the cavern opened up slightly creating a small room. Just as he had remembered there was a doorway at the far side of the room but he would need to get past the mob in order to reach it.

_Hopeless._

He looked around the small space.

_At least ten men._

Not as many as he had thought but definitely more than he could fight off. Just as he had suspected, the gendarmerie had left. Some of the men he recognized to be stage hands, others were members of the company and there were a few whose faces he could not place. Some were sitting, some standing; it looked as if they had been waiting for a few hours at least.

"Let's just go. It's been hours. He must have escaped." One of the smaller men complained.

"No, fool. This is the only way out." Replied a large, bearded man.

"That beast... How... could he?" Muttered a third man who was sitting down behind them all, clearly more emotional than the rest.

"He is still here. It won't be long now. We must wait."

"Yes." Another added. "We must. For Piangi."

"And Buquet."Added a stage hand.

Erik looked down. He had heard enough. Buquet had deserved it; he was a fiend, a terrible excuse for a man. But Piangi... that, he did regret. At the time he had been mad with jealousy and Piangi's only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He hadn't even thought on it until now. This night had been such a whirlwind of emotion; so much had happened. This night had been like an opera in itself, perhaps the alternate ending to the performance which Christine and he were never able to finish; the ending to Don Juan Triumphant.

_No time._

He took a deep breath and peered into the room a second time. Many of them were holding torches. He looked down to see that most if not all of them had weapons in their hands; pistols on their belts.

_Those are for me._

Instinctively his hand flew to his hip, searching for something that was not there.

His Punjab lasso.

He silently cursed himself as he realized where he had left it; back in his home.

_What have you done?_

He had left his home in such haste that he had neglected to take with him his most important item...

_Second most important._

He had forgotten his mask also.

At this thought, Phantom or not, he began to feel something which had been absent from his life for almost 20 years; fear. Usually, those who saw his face did not live to speak of it but in this case he did not need to worry; either they would kill him or he would kill them all... but he did not have weapons; how was he to protect Christine?

_My Christine, I have failed you again!_

He moved back behind the wall and decided to head back to Christine who was probably worrying by now.

He turned around but instead of being greeted by the familiar darkness of the cavern he was hit with blinding pain as his ribs met with something hard and blunt. He keeled over. Before he had time to consider where this pain had come from his face was hit with what was probably the same object, knocking him onto his back. His nose was now gushing blood. Erik opened his eyes to see two, albeit blurred and spinning men standing above him, familiar expressions on their faces.

"Got him!" one of his assailants yelled into the small room. Groggily, Erik looked at the man who had yelled and was able to identify his weapon as some sort of a makeshift club.

_That's new._

"Bring him in!"

These men must have been hiding in an alcove he had forgotten to check. Again, he cursed himself for being foolish but it was probably too late. His carelessness could be the end of him, worse; the end of Christine; the final nail in the coffin that was their future together.

Christine had seen the men come out from behind Erik and it had taken everything she had not to yell out. She had promised him. She began trying to think of a solution but the harder she thought the less hope there seemed to be. The only thing she could think to do was to go him; it could mean the end for them both but at least she would be able to see him again. She began soundlessly crying as he was dragged into the room.

Erik's world was still spinning as the men began pulling him into the illuminated room, therefore initially he did not put up much of a fight. After a few seconds everything came back into focus and he could see numerous sets of eyes glaring down at him;hateful and sadistic, almost animal-like in their thirst for blood.

"Wait..." He spoke, able to taste his own blood as he opened his mouth. "No." He realized that once he was inside the room all hope would be lost and so began to struggle despite the pain in his side.

A third man ran to assist his friends as Erik began to stand up. Turning to his side, he pushed one man away from him and punched another man in the jaw; most likely one of the men who had been holding him. Suddenly pain struck as he was hit in the jaw by someone to his right. Momentarily stunned, his face was met with another blow. A few men grabbed him and his struggles met their end as he felt a knee make contact with his stomach. He coughed and bent over, temporarily bested.

The first man raised the club he had previously used to assault Erik and in his excitement was about to bring it down on Erik's head. At the last second it was pulled out of his grasp by a bigger man.

"No. Not yet. Against the wall." He ordered to the rest of the men who immediately obeyed. He turned to the man with the club. "We all want retribution, tonight we will have it."

It took five men to grab hold of his arms and push him up against the back wall of the small area. A few of the men cheered at their accomplishment. Erik tried to struggle but it was of no use; even he could not fight off this many men without a weapon. He raised his head to see the hateful eyes of his attackers; their glares were not something he was entirely unacquainted with; it was somewhat of a loathing, fearful, disgusted look and he had seen it the eyes of many over the years.

The large man who had spoken now stood directly in front of Erik, a hateful grin upon his unshaven face.

"My god." He smirked. "The rumors were true." He moved closer to Erik and looked him in the eye, an _attempt_ at intimidation. "You _are_ just as ugly as they say." The rest of the mob seemed to appreciate this jeer and there was somewhat of an ovation for the man speaking.

At first Erik only smirked; insults like this had little effect on him anymore. He knew that he was ugly. He stood up as straight as he could, given the circumstances and stared back at the man through disrupted strands of copper hair; his eyes unwavering and invasive. After a few moments, he spoke.

"So then... you must be the _leader_? What now then _leader_?" He asked sarcastically. "What is it that you wish to do with me? What is your big plan?"

The leader laughed and turned away from Erik.

"Big plan..."he mused. "We haven't decided yet."

Suddenly he spun around and threw a punch at Erik's face.

"It will be a long night for you though... I'm afraid." He said, waving his hand about as if to shake off the pain Erik's jaw had caused him.

Erik spat out blood and looked up at him; a crazed look in his piercing eyes. He refused to break eye contact. He had had worse than this, much worse.

"Where is the girl?" His assailant hastily asked. At this Erik flinched. He hoped it had gone unnoticed.

"She's gone." He lied, spitting again.

Erik had not been on speaking terms with God for many years, but right now he was praying for this man to believe him.

"...Went back to her boy. Left me."

_Please believe me._

The leader gave him one scrutinizing gaze before shrugging his shoulders.

"Can't say that I blame her."

A sigh of relief.

_Thank god._

"So, tell me monster... Why did you kill those people?" He walked up to Erik until they were mere inches away from one another. Erik detested being this close to someone; to people, to mankind.

_Yellow teeth._

"People?" Erik asked casually, feigning disinterest; purposefully antagonizing the man in front of him.

"Yes! People! Buquet!" the leader grabbed Erik's hair and forcefully jerked his head back so that he was forced to look up, moving in closer still. To this Erik grimaced but it was more a result of the proximity than the pain. "Remember, the scene shifter?! You strangled him for no good reason? Ring any bells?"

"Oh yes." Erik replied apathetically. "The stage hand."

He smiled smugly. "I do not believe I need to justify my actions to you... a man of your... intelligence could not possibly hope to comprehend. Suffice it to say that I felt he did not deserve his life; therefore I took it from him. Simple as that."

At this the rest of the mob yelled in outrage, almost begging their leader for a chance at revenge.

"Simple as that?" the leader repeated, mockingly. "'Simple as that', he says." He grabbed Erik by the shoulders and thrust his large knee into his body causing him to bend over his captor and cough deeply. That had hurt.

"Did you think that you would get away with it!?"

Erik looked up, his eyes watering but showing no signs of submission. Despite the pain he was in, he couldn't help himself, the smug smile returning to his face.

"Why, yes. I rather thought that I would."

This enraged the large man. Again, he threw a knee into Erik and stood back with a smile to watch the result.

Again, Erik coughed and doubled over, only this time he coughed for a little longer, bent a little lower.

He was tiring of this, and it was getting quite painful. He began to think. How could he get out of this without involving Christine? There were so many men, was it even possible?

A yell sounded from the back of the room. "And what of Piangi?!"

"Yes! What of Piangi?" the leader repeated, stepping up to Erik once more.

Erik looked around the room, disinterested in the conversation around him. He needed to think of a way out of this.

_There must be a way._ _There always is._

"Didn't you hear me?!" The man yelled at Erik, the stolid expression on his face only serving to aggravate him more.

"I heard you." He replied calmly, although he was genuinely shaken out of his planning by the yell. For this he received another punch in the face.

"Piangi!" the large man yelled, bearing down on him.

Erik did regret Piangi. His kills haunted him each and every night and would do for the rest of his days, some he regretted more than others; this was one of them.

"Well... "He turned his head to the side and spat some more blood. "I simply felt extreme indifference to his living."

_He was simply in the way..._

_What have I done?_

The man looked at his cohorts, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Of course, Erik had expected him to express his rage. He prepared himself and sure enough, the rage followed; a punch in the face followed by one in the stomach. Again, Erik was grabbed by the shoulders as a knee was sent into his body, only this time white-hot pain shot through his entire torso. His eyes widened as he felt excruciating pain in his rib cage; something had cracked, broken or fractured... he was sure of it. All he wanted to do was lie down but he could not. Several men were still holding his arms, intensifying the pain with every movement.

He couldn't yell; he didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Now a little bit sorry for antagonizing his captor, part of him began to wonder whether he deserved this for what he had one; what he had become and the lives he had taken.

"Starting to feel it now? Are you sorry yet?"

Erik looked up, blood covering his mouth and nose.

"I've had worse than you." He rasped. "...Worse than this."

"Just kill him!" yelled one of the men holding him. Erik looked up at the man who had spoken; a menacing look, a chilling grin on his face. The man's breath caught in his chest his eyes widened but he did not loosen his grip.

"Not yet." The leader pulled a knife from his belt. "You are going to pay for your crimes tonight, murderer."

Erik looked at the knife, then at his captor. "Torture it is, then?" He asked nonchalantly.

_Nothing new._

"Tell me..." The man began, purposefully ignoring Erik's rhetorical question. "What must it be like, living with a face like this?" He dug the blade of his large, dirty knife into Erik's left cheek. He closed his eyes and flinched. "Let's even it out for you." He growled.

Searing pain cut across Erik's face as the blade broke the skin. He momentarily broke his resolve and yelled at the initial pain but quickly silenced himself. Blood began to seep out as the blade moved down his cheek.

Usually when Erik found himself in a situation such as this; when he was forced to endure extreme amounts of pain he would visit another place in his mind. Since he did not have any happy memories of his own he would use his imagination; create a memory and lose himself in it. During his time with the gypsies he had spent a lot of time in one particular fabrication; his favorite as a child;

_He is 9 years old and he is sitting in front of the fire in his childhood house. It is his birthday. His mother had taken him into town and no one on the street had given him a second look. They had had a great day walking hand in hand in the sunshine. He had played with the children in the town while his mother was shopping for his present. They had eaten sweets by the lake and had taken the long way home just to make the day last longer. Erik and his mother had walked back home as it was turning to dusk. The weather was perfect and he could feel a light summer breeze upon his face; he wasn't__wearing a mask, he didn't__have to._

_Then it was evening time. His mother reads him a story in front of the fire; Sasha, his beloved pet lying in his small lap. Now it is time for bed. His mother looks down at him with a loving smile and gives him his present; a small mirror._

_"__So that you may see yourself as I see you; perfect in every way." She says. He _is _disfigured but his mother takes no notice of it. She loves him for who he is. _

_"__I love you, son." She says and kisses him on the cheek without a second thought. She loves him. His mother loves him. And that is all there is. That is all that matters._

That was all that this 'memory' had comprised of; a perfect day, a perfect place in time which had never happened- _could_ never happen. He had spent hours upon hours of his childhood wrapped up in a fantasy that would have seemed nothing more than ordinary for any other child; any other person, anyone but him.

Now, he actually had a memory which he could draw upon; his time spent with Christine- her time spent _willingly_ with him.

_They were sitting there together on the cold, stone floor, wrapped in each other's warmth. _

_"__Relax." she said as she rested her head on his shoulder._

_...he tightened his grip around her_

_...she moved in closer still and wrapped her hands around his waist._

_Soon enough Christine was asleep; her head against Erik's shoulder as if it always had been there._

Just as he had begun to enter this glorious and very real memory, the pain stopped and Erik was brought back to reality.

"Don't feel that?" A voice in front of him asked. He had forgotten the man had been there. "Let's try again."

Erik felt the same searing pain he had before, only this time on his chest. This time the pain was too much; Erik couldn't enter his memory regardless of how _real _it was. He tried to struggle as his captor pushed the blade in further. He closed his eyes.

_Christine. Christine. Christine._

_..."Relax." she said..._

_...she wrapped her hands around his waist..._

_Christine._

_...and_

_Concentrate_

_...and she..._

_Don't lose it. Concentrate._

_...She..._

The blade broke the skin and as Erik audibly yelled the small crowd cheered for their leader. As the man actually began to pull it across Erik's chest he could not help but cry out and struggle to be free.

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><p>Christine had closed her eyes and was facing the wall. She did not know what to do, she was going mad! She could hear their horrible yells and laughter echoing through the caverns towards her and she knew exactly what was happening inside that room.<p>

"Please god." She whispered as tears ran down her cheeks. "Please, please help me. I don't know what to do. Please save him..."

"This can't happen! Not now... I don't know what to do... I can't..."

A battle was waging inside of her; should she say? She couldn't possibly bear this any longer. But what should happen if she were to go to him?

Suddenly, a yell sounded from inside the small room; his yell. She looked up in alarm and began audibly crying, a sound which did not reach the ears of those she so feared; they were quite distracted...

_I can't just stand here... I can't._


	8. Chapter 8

So, things are getting intense! Thank you again for all the support! Thank you to those who are still reading and to the new readers. :)

Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber.

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><p>Erik was exhausted. He was out of breath and sweat was covering him like a thick blanket. Blood was now running down his chest and soaking the open collar of his previously white shirt. He had a feeling that what he had shared with Christine was too good to be true; it had been beautiful while it lasted but now he had to be punished for it. He wondered where she was. Perhaps she had already left... maybe it was better that she had.<p>

_You aren't going to make it out of here._

"How was that?"

Erik looked up. He was tiring of looking at this man.

"Here." A small man walked up to them. Erik recognized him as one of the stage hands at the opera. "Use this." He said with a malicious look in his eyes.

Both Erik and the man in front of him broke eye contact with one another and looked down and what was being held out.

_A whip_

Erik's eyes widened as his captor looked at him, a sadistic smile on his face.

"No." He said, not entirely realizing that he had voiced his distress. All of his long repressed memories came flooding back to him at the sight of this insentient object and he was that helpless child once again; locked in a cage, humiliated and defiled for public amusement. That cage had been more than just an inanimate object to him; more than just metal bars and hostile stares, for he had lived within a cage since birth. As a child, his house had been his prison- his hostile mother; his jailer. As he grew older he found that the world became his jailer; their taunts and cruel words which almost always led to violence drove him further within himself where he proceeded to build a cage around himself for protection. He had built a fortress, both physical and emotional and only he had the power to demolish it. He had come a long way from being that powerless boy in the gypsy cage and after escaping from that first prison he had promised himself that he would never see that child again.

"No."

_No._

"Turn him around." Ordered the leader, satisfied with his victim's reaction.

"No." Erik began to panic. "No!"

"Yes." Said the man.

He finally had his Christine, _his _Christine. She had chosen_ him_ and for the first time his life was filled with possibility and hope. Why did this have to happen now?

_They might kill me here tonight._

_But I'm not ready to die! Not anymore!_

He had lived his whole life in preparation for his demise because he never knew when he might have to face it. A few hours ago he might have accepted his fate with indifference... but not now.

_Not now._

Erik began to fight the men once more but despite his struggles he was pushed back into the wall behind him.

"No, no, down there!" the man gestured to the floor. Erik fought still.

"Let... go of me!" He struggled but despite his desperation he was pushed to the floor and held there. He yelled as one of the men sat on him to keep him still. The pain in his body was excruciating and he was sure that his injured rib was going to crack under the pressure. While he wasn't convinced that this particular brand of torture was intentional he was going to make the culprit pay all the same.

_They were all going to pay._

The leader must have gestured something to his men because before Erik knew what was happening his shirt was cut from his back and ropes were tied to his wrists. Finally he was able to inhale again as the man who had been sitting on him proceeded to stand up and walk away. Erik began to stand too but was soon knocked back to the ground with a kick to his ribs.

"Get down!" yelled the voice he had been hearing all evening... morning? He had no idea how long he had been here for.

Grimacing, he rose to his knees but was not allowed any further as the ropes around his wrists were pulled tight in opposite directions. He was about to try to stand again but his intentions were cut short as the whip was brought down upon his back, pain ripping through his entire world. It felt as though his back was splitting open.

It was.

He cried out in the pain that he was unable to mask and his own grim memories came flooding back to him once more. He was ten years old again; he was nothing, he was no one and he was lying on that filthy cage floor- scraps for clothing, hay for bedding and rotting food beneath him.

The whip was brought down a second time and he wanted to die. He could hear the laughter around him and yells of encouragement directed at the man with the whip but it all seemed very far away; the only things that seemed real were the pain and the memories that the pain had conjured. His vision was blurred and the whole room seemed to be spinning.

"Stop!" He finally yelled as the whip was brought down a third time, splitting the skin on his back. He detested the fact that he had to voice his discomfort but he was truly unable to hold onto his pride any longer. It was painful yes, but the real torture was being subjected to those long forgotten memories.

_Nightmares. _Each time he was flayed he could see Javert, his 'master'. He could hear him and smell him and with every strike he was becoming increasingly real. That cage seemed to be forming around him and closing in with each agonizing second.

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><p>Christine could stand it no longer. She had no plan of action and Erik had told her to stay where she was but how could he truly expect her to keep her word in a situation such as this? She could hear each and every thing that was happening in that room as each moment passed she grew angrier.<p>

_It is not or never._

Adrenalin was pumping through her veins and she was shaking with both anger and anticipation.

_You are the only hope he has._

She was about to start towards the illuminated room when someone grabbed her arm.

"Wha...?!" She jumped and spun around, attempting to remove the offending hand only to see Raoul, his familiar face more inviting than usual in the warm light of the torch that he was holding.

"Shhh." The familiar voice cautioned. "It's me. Are you alright?"

"Raoul!" Immediately, without a second thought she embraced him, taking comfort in his warmth, his security; his touch took her back to a safe and happy time...

_An ignorant time._

A time that was only a few hours ago, when she was blissfully unaware of the existence of horrors she had witnessed tonight.

_You've walked a few hours in the shoes Erik has had to wear his entire life._

"What are you doing here?!" She whispered, trying to focus on the task at hand, the time at hand. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as Christine continued. "Never mind, I am so relieved to see you...You cannot imagine..." She cried into his shirt.

"Did he hurt you?!" Raoul asked, quite loudly.

"No! No, of course not. That isn't what I meant." She wiped her tears. "I am relieved because I... I need your help..."

_She doesn't want to see you._

"Please... help me save him!"

_Him._

He knew exactly who that was. He sighed. "I know. Surely you know that I would not just leave you here... after all... we _are_ engaged..." He paused, hoping to hear or see something that he could count as a positive affirmation from Christine, anything that might indicate her feelings...

_Aren't we?_

Silence.

Christine's stomach dropped and that sneaking sensation of guilt began to build up inside of her once more. She knew that her silence was not what Raoul wanted but she was not at all equipped to address what he had just said. It seemed that no matter what she did; what she chose she was going to be hurting someone and she could not bear the thought.

After a few moments he decided to speak. If her reply was not what he wanted to hear, he didn't know whether he would have the strength or willpower to save the man in that room; the man who had stolen her away. "...I came back to make sure that you were alright. Clearly, you aren't."

A yell sounded from inside the room.

"Please. Raoul, I... I cannot discuss this now... I cannot bear it; what they are doing to him... I didn't know if I should have gone or stayed here...I have been going out of my mind trying to decide!"

"You made the right decision, Christine. That would have been very foolish indeed."

"Please, what should we do? We need to do something?!" She was becoming hysterical.

"Its alright, I will help him." Raoul replied, plainly. He could not deny Christine anything, even now.

"You... you will?"

"Yes. For you, Christine."

"Thank you." She clumsily hugged him again. He returned the embrace and closed his eyes; he was going to miss this. "For you." He repeated and pulled away.

_Not for him._

"Let's go."

Christine didn't know what Raoul had planned and she wasn't in the frame of mind to think sensibly or coherently. All she knew was that she needed to get to Erik as soon as she possibly could. She was blaming herself for every second he spent in there; and with every second she was growing more and more anxious.

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><p>The whip came down a forth time. Pain and unwelcome memories overcame Erik and he could not focus on anything else. He had no strength left. He could feel his own blood trickling down his sides; warm and thick.<p>

"Please..." He softly spoke.

"What's that?" his captor leaned towards him, an antagonistic grin in his face. "Was that a please? From you? Never thought that i would hear you say it... But answer me this; why should i spare you any pain when you didn't give those you murdered a second thought?!" He stood up again. "Why?!"

Erik remained silent. What could he say? What words could he possibly choose that would improve his situation? He wasn't going to apologize for his actions. No matter what they did to him, they would not get that.

_At least Christine is safe._

"We aren't done with you, though." He continued, stepping back and raising his whip once more. Erik closed his eyes, preparing himself for more pain. Just as he was about to bring the lash down on upon his victim a fifth time, he heard a commanding voice to his right.

"Stop." It said. Erik looked up with what little strength he had left.

_The Vicomte?!_


	9. Chapter 9

So, i made you wait slightly longer than you are accustomed to for this chapter. Not intentional, i promise. It's quite long but i just felt like it all needed to be in one chapter so i kept you waiting while i added to it... sorry!

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

OH! Also, i wrote a one shot based on Susan Kay's Erik, Check it out! I'm so happy with how it turned out!

s/10963627/1/My-Legacy

Anyway, here it is! Glad you are enjoying it and thank you to all the new readers! :)

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><p>Raoul stood in the doorway to the small room pointing a gun at Erik's captor, Christine behind him.<p>

"Stop." He said.

_The Vicomte?!_

_Christine? What is she doing here?_

_It isn't __safe._

Erik's eyes darted from Raoul to Christine, searching her face for answers. She was holding onto Raoul's arm.

_Was she with him? Had she changed her mind?_

_I want to die._

Thoughts raced through Erik's delirious mind as he struggled to focus on the two new faces in the room. Christine had seemed another world away to what had been happening to him and now that she was here, in front of him he couldn't quite put the pieces together.

Christine looked at him and she gasped at what she saw. Part of her had not expected it to be this bad; her eyes went from the crowd of wild and angry men surrounding him, to the large man standing behind him with a bloody whip in his hand. She was outraged when her eyes were finally met with the sight that was Erik. The state of his body made her eyes well up with tears but it was look in his eyes that tugged viciously at her heart. It was as if he could not comprehend that she could be here; that she had come back. As if being treated like this by these people had caused him to regress in some way and all the progress she had made with him had been demolished. She wanted to weep; weep for him, for what he had gone through for her, for what he had gone through his entire life.

Erik couldn't quite place the Vicomte's presence. Why was he here? He had hoped that with any luck he would not have to see him again. How had he found his way in the darkness? Was he with the Gendarmerie? Perhaps Christine had changed her mind? Perhaps their plan was to lock him away and run off together... but why would they be here? Why would _she _be here? It wasn't safe for her. He had told her not to come.

"I... you should not be here... I told you to stay..." He managed.

At these words, she cried.

After all he had gone through- gone through for her, he still cared about her safety above his own.

"Shut up!" The leader yelled down at Erik, receiving a scowl in return. He turned to Raoul. "Now who in God's name are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself..." Raoul began. "I am Raoul de Chagny. I do not think that you would do well to cause me trouble. Drop the whip." He ordered, the pistol pointed at the leaders head.

The man ignored him. "And... who is that behind you?" He said, directing a fiendish grin at Christine.

Raoul cocked his pistol. The man looked at him.

"Drop it." He repeated. This time, he obeyed. Stepping away from Erik, the grin still on his face, he dropped the whip. His men dropped the ropes that were holding Erik in place and he immediately collapsed to the ground. Christine pushed past the men who were now just taking turns at glancing between Raoul and their leader, waiting for further instruction. She ran to Erik and knelt down beside him. She wanted nothing more than to hold him but he looked so sore...

Raoul kept both his pistol and his gaze steadily on his target but he allowed himself an intermittent glance at the small reunion playing out before him.

"Erik..." she cried "I'm so sorry that this happened to you..."

_Erik...?_

She ran her fingers over his wrists which were red from the friction of the rope. "Your poor face...Your _back_! You must be in so much pain..."

"Christine... I told you to stay... where you were." He scolded weakly, ignoring her fussing.

"I know, I know but... I just couldn't..." She began to weep.

_Couldn't__wait to get back to him I suppose..._

Raoul scolded himself for his jealousy. The man had clearly suffered.

"Shhh, Christine. Do not weep." He sat up a little. "It is worse than it looks... honestly."

"Is it?" She sniffed

"No." A slight smile on his lips. Christine laughed and wiped her eyes. At least he was well enough for humor...Even if it was _Erik _humor...

"I am so sorry Christine..." He said. "I said that I would protect you... I didn't." She noticed that he was beginning to shake.

"No! Don't be sorry! I'm fine." She said, rubbing his arm.

"No... anything could have happened... And..."

"Its alright." She said, holding his hand. Pulling with all her might, she helped him stand up. He cringed as each injury seemed to protest to the movement.

"Christine..."he began. With a pained expression on his face he looked to Raoul, then back to her. "Is he..."

_He. Me._

Christine looked into his searching eyes and hastily reassured him of where she stood. He did not need to suffer any more on her account. "He came to help us." She responded, knowing exactly what he was going to ask her. How could he still doubt her after everything?

_After how you treated him...?_

"I haven't changed my mind. I'll explain everything... I will." She said, a response which earned a crooked smile from Erik... a rare gift. Without warning she slipped her small hand into his and to this his small grin widened. He couldn't seem to contain or mask his happiness when she did things like this, regardless of the setting. How could he ever get used to her touching him? Each time her skin made contact with his own he forgot everything; where he was... _who _he was... At that moment there was no one else in the room and any pain or ill ease had entirely left his body and mind. He was with Christine, what else did he need?

He was about to speak when Raoul's assertive voice brought them both back to the present.

"Now... Perhaps I should clarify. I am Raoul de Chagny..." Raoul began, his pistol still pointed steadily at the leaders face. "Raoul le Vicomte de Changy. Now, drop your weapons and get out."

They could have done that they liked with someone like Erik, but the murder of a Vicomte was more trouble than they were ready for. The leader slowly removed his pistol from his belt and dropped it on the floor beside him. He then gestured for the rest of the mob to do the same. They obeyed.

He stared at Raoul through hateful, bloodshot eyes.

"This isn't over." He spoke, glancing at Erik who, while still shaking had regained the sense of where he was and what was happening. He shot the man an icy glare, his eyes narrowed. He was standing next to Christine and holding his injured side with one hand and although he was not yet standing at full height, he looked as menacing as ever. Christine stared straight at the man who had hurt Erik so terribly. All her fear had dissipated after seeing him in such a state.

"Come on then." He said to the rest of the men. Slowly, they walked out of the room, back to where they had presumably come from. The leader paused behind his men and turned to Erik.

"I'll see you again, monster." He spat, and turned to walk away.

"Monster." Christine repeated to herself.

_How dare he?_

"Monster. He's the monster. These people... All of these people are the monsters..."She said, her voice rising both in volume and anger as she spoke.

"Christine... leave it." Said Erik quietly. "It's nothing."

"It's something."She said and without thinking she left Erik's side and ran at the man who had insulted him. Managing to catch him by surprise she jumped on his back and in her anger had not considered the consequences. He turned around and carelessly threw her off. She screamed and fell to the ground...

Within seconds Erik was upon the man, momentarily regaining his strength his hands found their way around his throat.

Erik couldn't help but feel a strange sense of familiar comfort in this. It was like being welcomed by an old friend... murder; a friend who knew him better than anyone else could hope to, a friend who did not judge him for his actions, a friend who kept secrets... Perhaps this was a jealous friend, perhaps this friend would not let go so easily. Erik did not enjoy the act of killing as such, he simply took pleasure in the experience of seeing the end of certain unsavory characters... he took pleasure in _being _that end...

Some _ends _he enjoyed more than others... this was one of them.

A few of the men rushed back at the sound of the commotion and they could not believe what they saw; their _victim _was on their _leader_ like a lion on his prey. A few of them made for Erik in an attempt to aid their leader but were soon discouraged by the presence of Raoul's pistol.

"Think again." He warned. He would never be an admirer of this _Erik _but he was not about to rob him of his vengeance. It had been well earned...

After a moment Christine looked up and screamed at the sight before her.

"Erik!" She screamed. She didn't quite know why she had yelled; was she worried for Erik? Did she want his victim to be saved? Of course not... Was it the violence of it all? Never before had she seen something like this. She had known that her Angel had been the cause of Buquet's death but she had not seen it this closely, nor did she want to. What was playing out before her was too confronting and she didn't know whether to try to stop him or cry.

_He was protecting you._

She looked at his back which, due to his sudden attack was facing her. Blood... and all his.

No. She didn't want to stop him. It was something that she had never wished to witness but she could not feel remorse for Erik's victim... not after all he had done.

Erik's vice-like grip did not once falter, nor did his gaze. He stared at the man before him; looked into his eyes, into his soul and with each passing second he seemed to feel lighter; as if he were transferring his pain, his angst, his hate; pouring his pain into his victim, cleansing himself with the tightening of his grip. This was how it always felt...

The man stared back at Erik, hands clawing at his assassin as the breath left his lungs and struggled to re-enter. Knowing that his face, _his _face would be the last thing this sorry excuse for a man would ever see filled him with utter satisfaction. He smiled, an unsettling action which prompted his victim to struggle all the more. Every muscle in his body was tense and he did not loosen his grip until his victim's eyes had closed. Only then did he let go, the man collapsing to the floor; lifeless.

He stepped back from his prize and at that moment it was clear who the _real _victim was.

Christine stared at Erik, beguiled by what had just happened; it had all played out in mere seconds. Never had she seen that look in his eyes before; his gaze had been determined, unwavering... cold... He had stared _into _the man with eyes that had been both intense and yet somehow glazed over...

Finally able to let his guard down he allowed the presence of his injuries and exhaustion to be felt. Placing one hand on the wall for support and the other on his injured rib he exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. He turned to look at her and his shoulders dropped. He was covered in sweat and blood and his blue eyes told her that which was not spoken;

_This was for you._

The thought scared her. Once more she doubted whether or not she had made the correct choice. Could she marry someone like Erik? A murderer? She kept telling herself that he had done it to protect _her _but that did not make it easier to stomach. She looked between Erik and Raoul who, once again both stood before her expectantly and she could not help but note the steep contrast between the two. Raoul was the epitome of virtue and purity, whereas Erik stood before her covered in murder. But he loved her...and he would do anything for her. He had gone through tonight for _her._

Through his cuts and bruises he smiled at her as if following her thought process and it made her heart swell. His smile was truly something to behold, perhaps because it was an act she so seldom got to witness. She returned the smile.

She ran to him and forgetting his injuries embraced him tightly.

"I'm sorry!" She said, noting his steep inhalation.

"Never be sorry, Christine." He grimaced. "An embrace from you is worth ten nights like this."

She pulled away slightly and gently touched his face. How had she doubted her choice? Doubted _him_?

"I was so worried for you." She said.

"I told you that everything would be alright, did I not?" He smiled. There it was again.

Remembering why he as now standing Erik looked to Raoul who had been watching them for some time. Erik suddenly felt quite anxious, this man had seen him at his absolute worst; mad with jealousy and want and now he would have to speak to him. He had hated Raoul; envied him above all others, spent hours upon hours loathing him for being the one Christine chose, for being the one who had what he wanted... what he_ yearned_ for. Only hours ago he had made an attempt on this man's life for that reason and that alone. That night... _last _night he had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly out of control. All of a sudden he was overcome with crippling self-loathing. This man, the _boy... _Raoul was strong enough to put something of that magnitude well and truly behind him for the good of Christine. Surely a man who cared _so _much about his Christine could not be beyond redemption?

Erik walked up to Raoul wearing an expression he could not read.

"I apologize." He began. Raoul remained silent, stupefied by the words which had uttered from The Phantom's mouth.

"For everything... There is nothing I can do to properly make amends for what I have done; the grief I have caused you. You did not deserve it and I am utterly ashamed of my behavior. I was quite out of my mind with grief... you see...with jealousy."

Raoul's eyes narrowed but he continued to listen.

"I now see that you are not quite the man I made you out to be. You do care for Christine, I see that now... and I have told her that she is welcome to leave at any time. You have saved my life when I had tried to end yours and you have let Christine make her own choice...Which is more than I can say for myself when the situation was in reverse..."

_Thank you for being such a gentleman when I behaved like an animal..._

Still shaking from the shock and the cold, Erik took a deep breath and put out his right hand.

Christine had been dreading the moment when these two would actually have to speak with one another. Imagery of the cemetery flashed in and out of her mind as their eyes met. The sound of their swords violently meeting seemed to echo in the back of her head as if it had happened a moment ago and her ears had not yet stopped ringing. As Erik walked towards Raoul it was all she could do not to throw herself between them in a peace offering. The portcullis... the lair... the noose... it was all too fresh in her mind. Then Erik stuck out his hand...

_Please shake it._

She knew that Erik had a lot of pride; that he probably had not apologized more than once in his entire life. She knew that for him to have offered this truce... this _apology_, even after all that had transpired was quite out of character. She only hoped that Raoul accepted... Erik was volatile at the best of times and she did now know how he would react to a refusal...

Yes... she did... and so did Raoul...

The tension was palpable, the atmosphere; visible. Raoul stared at Erik, eyes still narrow and after quite an extended silence, he spoke.

"I did it for Christine. I want her to be happy. If spending time with you rather than me constitutes happiness for her... fine. I accept your apology."

_Thank god._

He took Erik's hand in his and shook it slowly. Erik did not speak and they did not break eye contact.

"Do not thank me for what I have done. Just keep her safe. Look after her at all costs; her life above your own."

"Of course." Erik replied. Not yet allowing Raoul to draw his hand back. He was not going to live his life according to this man's conditions. Of course he would look after Christine! Did Raoul think that he had some sort of misguided responsibility to him now? Perhaps he did. Perhaps it was time to accept that Raoul had helped him and that without him he would likely be dead or worse. As hard as it was going to be he owed him cordiality at the very least. The boy had earned that much.

"Come." Erik spoke, releasing Raoul's hand at last. "If you follow us you will find your way out of these caverns; alone it is near impossible... even _with_ your light." He gestured smugly to the torch Raoul had absentmindedly discarded in the excitement. He still found a small amount of pleasure in insulting the boy... the opportunity of insulting Raoul to his face was a new pleasure entirely.

"Thank you." He said politely, obviously not picking up on Erik's sarcasm.

"You know... the darkness will allow for better vision, Vicomte." He said, walking back to Christine.

"I don't see how that could be possible."

"Of course you don't."

"Erik!" Christine scolded quietly. She looked at him. "You're shaking."

"Yes. The shock, I expect."

"And the cold...?"

"I told you, Christine, I have grown accustomed to it."

"Yes, but you are cold... aren't you?"

She pulled the cape from her shoulders and with great difficulty draped it over Erik's. He winced at the pain of the fabric on his open wounds but accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you." He said, smiling at her gesture as he carefully pulled it around himself. Christine held onto his arm.

He took a deep breath and then, clearly exhausted, he spoke. "Let's go." He glanced at Raoul who nodded.

Every step sent waves of pain through his body and he could not stop shaking. It took all of his strength just to walk out of that room but he was the only one who knew the treacherous way out of these tunnels and onto the street. He _had _to get Christine to safety and he had to stay alert. These tunnels would take them to a small street in the direction of Le Jardin des Tuileries; a few streets away from Rue Scribe. He had used this passageway to access street level before but that was a long time ago... and tonight was different...

Who knew what would await them once they emerged?


	10. Chapter 10

Bit of a gap between chapters again, i know. Hope you enjoy this one though!

Many thanks to all the new subscribers and readers :):)

Phanty belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber

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><p>Raoul felt terribly out of place. He had known why she had jumped out of that boat but he did not expect her to be speaking so decidedly so soon... Perhaps part of him truly believed that she was just going to <em>see<em> him, to see if he was alright... or to settle her mind, to get closure. Perhaps he did not want to consult the other part of his mind; the part that told him it was over there and then. He was _engaged_ to Christine but now, seeing her with Erik... it almost seemed like another time and place; as if _this_ was the reality, Christine and this _Erik_, and his engagement was merely a dream that he was allowed to live for a small while.

"This way." They took a small turn shortly after exiting the room. Erik glanced at Raoul to see if he was still following. Part of him had hoped that he wasn't...

Erik was still uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't care for human interactions at the best of times and he was feeling quite irritable given the circumstances. He looked a mess... he knew that, and he still wasn't wearing his mask. Previous to this it had been only Christine and himself, and he had been shrouded in darkness. For a small while he had almost forgotten to worry about his appearance but now, with Raoul shining that flame in his face every second moment he got less and less inclined to hide his disdain. He didn't like light, he didn't like people and he didn't like the boy but he had to make an effort to be civil.

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><p>Christine began to notice Erik slowing down.<p>

"Erik, are you alright? You're walking slower..."

"My dear, I am far from alright but I shall manage. Don't let it trouble you."

"Raoul..."Christine began, ignoring Erik. He was clearly struggling. "Won't you help him walk?"

She ignored the disconcerted expression on his face and frowned at him.

Without so much as a glance at Raoul, Erik responded. "Christine. I am alright." He didn't like the idea any more than the Vicomte. Changing the subject so that Christine would not be able to force this on him, he addressed Raoul. "That torch is actually impairing my vision, Vicomte."

"That simply isn't possible."

"Yes, it is."

"Erik." Christine warned.

"I am able to see better in the darkness, and since I am the _only _one who knows the way out of these cellars, I suggest we extinguish that flame."

"You know the way out yes, but you would not be _leaving _these cellars if it were not for me. So, I say that it stays lit."

"Don't test me, Vicomte." Erik stopped walking and faced Raoul. "Do not think that I am indebted to you because of what happened. I have spoken of my gratitude, therefore my debt is paid." Raoul rolled his eyes. "Please do not expect friendship out of this and _please _do not assume that you can say what you wish to me with no reprisals."

"I would not be so foolish as to expect either from _you_, but I do expect common decency... which apparently you do not possess to give." He turned to Christine. "Christine, is this really what you want?"

"Do _not _address her!"

Christine looked between Raoul and Erik.

_I knew that it would only be a matter of time._

"What of_ common decency?_ " Erik boomed. "And what of decency is _common_, pray tell? I will show you decency, a small amount; the amount that you have earned here tonight but not a fraction more. Do not speak of decency to me, Vicomte, I have spent enough time in this world to learn its' interpretation of decency and how common it really is. I pride myself on the fact that I do not conform to such a shallow, prejudiced world."

Raoul screwed his face up at what he was hearing. _Erik _seemed to have lost what he was actually arguing about.

Christine looked up at Erik, a little frightened at who he was becoming.

"I owe you nothing."He added.

"You're correct, you owe me nothing. Nothing is what I expected from you, after all. And you will be pleased to know that what I did, I did for Christine and Christine alone. I am completely oblivious as to why but she cares for you... much to my disdain."

"Oh I am aware, Vicomte, I did not expect an act of kindness purely for the sake of it... not from one of you. Did you honestly think that I would be so ignorant?"

"_One of me_? Why do you talk like that? Like you are so far removed from everyone? As if our laws do not apply to you? Whether you like it or not Monsieur you are part of the human race and..."

"I AM NOT PART OF YOUR HUMAN RACE!" Erik bellowed, his own face now inches from Raoul's. "Your laws do _not_ apply to me! Why should I follow the rules of your precious little world when it has made such a point of ostracizing me from it?! I feel no need to follow your customs or live up to your standards because I am _not_ one of you. I never _have _been. And I am sated with the fact that I never will be! _Contented, _you might say." He stepped backward and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Why do you loathe me so greatly?" Raoul stared at the Phantom in front of him. "I have never wronged you. I should not be held accountable for this world which clearly has..."

"No, you shouldn't be held accountable for what you have not done. Crimes you have not committed. But that is what your world has done to me. I loathe you because you took from me all that I wanted and could never have."

"But you have it! You have _her!_" Raoul gestured to Christine who was silently watching them.

Erik looked at her and his eyes softened. "Yes..." He had almost forgotten.

Raoul was relieved to have distracted him.

"Now." Raoul began, taking advantage of this. "...if you are quite done... we ought to leave. I can see that you hold little value for your own future but Christine and I are on quite a different page."

"Alright. Douse the lamp." He looked at Raoul, a slight smirk on his lips.

Seeing that it was better to obey than get drawn into another argument, Raoul conceded.

"Take my hand." He said to Christine in the darkness. Again she put her hand in his along with her complete trust.

"I suppose that you shall want to hold my hand too, Vicomte?" He called behind him, struggling not to laugh at his own humor.

Christine scoffed audibly.

"Well I would much rather hold Christine's." Raoul responded and took Christine's hand.

Erik didn't find this funny at all.

After a few dark, silent minutes of walking they reached a ladder.

"Here."Erik gestured upwards. "This is it."

Raoul followed his gaze. A long wrought iron ladder met with a sewer grate about twenty feet above them. "Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly.

With a condescending smile Erik looked at Raoul, his face dappled with the small amount of moonlight that filtered in through the grate. "I'm sure." He said with a hint of arrogance in his voice.

To this, Christine could not help but smirk.

"You should go first. Christine will follow, and then myself."

Raoul was about to object when Erik continued.

"It simply makes more sense." He added, reading Raoul's skeptical mind. "If anyone spots you emerging from the sewers you can simply tell them that you escaped and that you don't know where I am." Raoul began nodding, the brilliance of the plan dawning on him. "If they happen to see Christine following, she can attest to the story. You can say that you both escaped the _terrible _Phantom and that you are unaware of his... of _my _whereabouts."

"Yes. Yes, Raoul this makes sense." Christine grabbed his arm in the hopes of convincing him, but Raoul did not need convincing. The sooner he was out of this man's company, the better.

"Besides... I would prefer someone to be up there before I send Christine up... even if that someone must be you."

Raoul scowled at Erik.

"Yes... it is a good plan. Considering that they would shoot you on sight." He grinned smugly.

Erik did not respond. He knew it to be the truth and he was tired of arguing with this buffoon of a man. He was _tired. _He was tired and sore and if putting up with the Vicomte meant a change of clothes and rest then he would accede.

"Alright. Here we go." Raoul began climbing the ladder before him with ease. When he was about ten feet up, Erik spoke.

"Christine... do we trust him?" Erik was blind to whatever was beyond that sewer grate and he did not have much of a plan, a very rare occurrence. He knew that they would be damned should Raoul betray them. He didn't think that he would purposefully put Christine in harm's way but he could not be sure; everyone was the enemy.

"Yes."Christine responded quietly. "I don't believe that Raoul is overly fond of _you_ but he would never do anything to harm me... regardless of jealousy." She held his hand and almost reading his mind, added; "I trust him." Erik smiled, more at her action than her words.

_Whatever you say. _

At that moment he would have believed that the sky was green if she had spoken the words.

* * *

><p>Soon, Raoul had reached the top of the ladder and holding on with one hand; he lifted the sewer grate with the other. He hoped against all hope that there would be no one waiting for him when he emerged... He knew that the mere mention of his name was all it would take should he find himself in trouble. More than likely he would be able to get Christine to safety too, but not even a de Chagny would be able to give sanctuary to the Phantom of the Opera... not after all he had done. He still loathed the man on almost every level but he was aware of the consequences should something happen to him. Christine would never recover. His presence (in whatever capacity that may be) had become part of her... without which she would never be whole.<p>

Cautiously, Raoul emerged and peered out into the empty Parisian streets.

_Empty._

They were empty save for a lone lamplighter in the distance who had no doubt just begun work. Other than that there was not a soul to be seen. He thought it a strange sight but soon reminded himself that it must have been early morning. It had been a long night...

He climbed out and sighed; his breath visible in the cold, January air.

"It's fine." He knelt down beside the hole. "Quickly, come up."

Down below, Erik was still smiling at Christine when Raoul's voice reminded him of where he was.

"Alright. Your turn." He said, gently guiding her over to the ladder.

"No... you are the injured one, you should go first!" She tried to persuade him.

"Christine, we have already discussed this... it makes sense that you should go."

"But..."

"Christine... I do not mean to sound abrupt but I am exhausted... please just obey me."

"Alright." She said softly. "I'm just worried about leaving you again." She hugged him. He winced and hissed at the pain as her hands made contact with his back.

"I'm sorry..."

"No you aren't." He teased.

"I am! I keep forgetting..."

He tilted his head knowingly and she blushed. No, she wasn't sorry for hugging him. Not at all.

"It's alright. Go now." He said, shakily stroking her hair.

She smiled and began to climb up.

"Don't look!" She shot down playfully.

"I... won't." He chuckled, slightly surprised that she would think of such a thing in a situation as serious as this.

Soon she was at the top and Raoul helped her out. She stood up and looked around.

"No one." She said to Raoul who nodded. "Thank goodness."

She looked down. "Come up, hurry." She said to Erik who _had _been looking up, but only to make sure that she would not fall.

Slowly Erik began to climb up towards Raoul and Christine. Beginning to feel the presence of his injuries, he paused after about ten feet of climbing.

"What is it?"Christine called down to him.

"Nothing. I'm fine." He hadn't meant to sound abrupt but the pain was intensifying with every step he took.

After a slow, painstaking climb, he made it to the top and much to the chagrin of both men Raoul was forced to help him out. As soon as he reached street level, his shaking began to intensify. It was the middle of Winter and he still wasn't wearing much.

Christine looked at Erik.

"Will you at least admit that you are cold?" she asked, becoming annoyed at his pride.

"Yes... Although cold... may be an understatement." He responded through chattering teeth.

She walked over to him and rubbed his arms, hoping for the friction to create warmth. He smiled and once again could not conceive that this was happening to _him_.

"What's the plan?" Raoul asked sternly.

"Plan...Yes..." Erik was quite distracted. "Well I had... planned for us to... w-walk and hail a...c-carriage once out of P-Paris but ...I can't like this of course... We may need... t-to go back. We need a horse."

"Go back!?"Christine could not believe what she had heard. "Go _back_? Back _there? _We couldn't possibly. Where are we?"

"It isn't as f-far as you... might think... only a f-few streets... away" He answered. "I... c-cannot conceive any other way... And I am slightly... under-dressed for a c-carriage ride... w-wouldn't you say?"

Christine smiled at his attempted humor.

_And you're covered in blood._

Raoul looked at him.

_And you're still deformed..._

"I shall go. I shall get you a horse." He said.

This shocked Erik. He would do this for her when he knew that his horse would see the end of their engagement?

"Raoul... you would do that for us?" Christine looked at him, a look of sincerity and pure innocence. His breath caught in his throat. She looked so beautiful.

_I would do anything for you. _

This Erik did have good taste, at least they could agree on that.

"For you, remember. I would do it for you, Christine." He shot a look at Erik who did nothing but stare back at him. He was quite surprised at Raoul's expression of honor and loyalty.

"I would do anything for you, Christine. Surely you know that by now. I always will."

She smiled awkwardly. She hated the fact that she had to hurt him. As the night had progressed her feelings for Erik had grown stronger. She suspected that Raoul had foreseen this and that he was now staring at the outcome. Yet he loved her still...

"It will be safe for me. There is little risk." He added. To his astonishment, Erik spoke up.

"Thank you, Monsieur." Raoul stared at him in utter disbelief.

"I... may have underestimated you a-after all..." Deciding to be the better person, Raoul did not rebuke this extreme act of uncharacteristic humility. With the smallest hint of a smile, he nodded. Erik's face did not change, but Christine saw something in his eyes which told her that they had temporarily reached a truce.

Raoul looked to Christine and held her shoulders gently. "Stay hidden until my return." They stared into each other's eyes for a brief moment. Only when his began to well up with tears did he look away. He turned around, overcome with emotion and promptly left.

Christine stared after him for a second or two, then slowly turning around she looked up at Erik. He met her gaze.

_Alone once more._


	11. Chapter 11

Hey!

Many thanks for all my readers, hope that you're enjoying what's going on here. I am certainly enjoying writing it! Please do review and let me know what you think! Apologies if my writing is a little sloppier than usual; its quite late over here and my eyes are 'Shrekd'

So, suspense! They finally escaped the Opera! Or did they?

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber

* * *

><p>Using the cover of darkness to his advantage, someone else <em>was <em>there; watching from another street.

The man pulled his jacket tighter and let out a frustrated sigh; his breath was visible due to the crisp night air. It was a cold night, even for January. The cobbled streets were glistening; wet from a recent fall of precipitation and it looked as though more snow was imminent. This was a pointless caper; even to assume that this _man _was still alive was a stretch. He had seen the number of Gendarmerie that had piled into that Opera house after the disaster... but they _had_ told him of this man's unique skill set... perhaps he did possess the means of escape? It wouldn't be the first time...

It had been hours. Perhaps it was time to tell them that he had escaped. They wouldn't like that at all...

Then his eye caught something; someone emerging from the ground itself. Three people came out of a small sewer grate in the middle of the road; a woman and two men. He moved closer to the wall.

Could that be _him_? No... That was le Vicomte de Chagny... he had seen him around the Opera from time to time. The other man... it must be. He was taller than they had told him, perhaps was someone else...

Yes.

Then he turned around and the moonlight illuminated his face in all the necessary places.

It_ was_ him; a face like that could not possibly belong to anyone else. And he had the famous Christine Daae with him just like they had said he would. Yes... they would be pleased. They would indeed.

* * *

><p>Christine turned around and looked up at Erik. He met her gaze.<p>

_Alone once more._

They stared at one another; nothing to distract them now but the darkness and the sound of a carriage somewhere far away. They had escaped. Seemingly, the hard part was over. Although they had both been thinking of this moment the entire night, neither of them had been properly prepared for it. There was a small part in each of them that truly believed they would not escape with their lives... but now they were here. Now the reality was setting in; questions, promises, doubts lingered in the air between them. Erik's eyes flickered between Christine and the empty road behind her. Christine knew that he wanted to speak to her, she could almost hear his thoughts; his mind racing a mile a minute; almost see the words on the tip of his tongue... Perhaps he wanted to make some gesture of affection towards her; to remind her that his feelings had not changed despite his ordeal. Perhaps he wanted to know of _her _feelings, wanted to check whether she had changed _her_ mind or to give her one last chance to flee. Finally he took a deep breath and opened his mouth...

"Come... We must conceal ourselves." He held out one of his hands, the other still holding his side.

"...Yes..."Of course she could see that concealment was imperative at this point... or at any point with this man, but she was slightly let down by his anticlimactic response. She took his hand and followed him around a building and into a small alleyway.

"This way." He said. "I have used this before, there's a small alcove in the wall."

"Used...?" She eyed him.

"Yes. For hiding." He answered plainly.

"I see." She responded as if what she had just heard had been a regular answer...But Erik was not a regular man. Not at all. She had to keep reminding herself of who she was with. She had become fairly familiar with this _Erik _character and she had almost forgotten about the _Phantom_... save for a moment or two in the past few hours.

"Do you want to sit?" She asked after they had stepped inside the alcove.

"Well, I fear that if I should sit I may lack the motivation to get back up again." He smiled. He did want to sit... he had never wanted anything more in his life than to simply rest. Well... besides Christine. "You may have to lift me onto the horse or perhaps carry me the entire way."

"Erik. Was that a joke?" She smiled at him, wide eyed.

"I do make them... from time to time." He smirked and pulled the cape further around himself.

"Yes." She smiled.

He wanted to hold her like before but he was far too afraid. A lot could have changed between their confessions in the tunnels and now.

_Do it, hold her._

He looked down at her once more and smiled through his discomfort. Then, as if reading his mind she pulled his arms open and gently embraced him.

He winced and exhaled shakily.

_Thank you._

"I'm sorry. You must be in so much pain."

"No. Thank you... I mean yes but..." He chucked awkwardly "I'm freezing."

_I love you._

"I know." She smiled.

_If only you did._

He slowly wrapped his arms around her. To hell with propriety, it was below zero! He certainly was warmer in this alcove than he had been with the wind hitting his barely clad body but she _wanted_ to hold him... who was he to complain?

"You feel warm to me." She said quietly, revelling in the heat exuding from him.

"Christine... you... how selfish of me. You must be freezing also!" He pulled away from her. "Here... please take this."

"Don't be silly! That isn't what I meant. I wasn't asking for the cape..."

He started to take off the cape but soon stopped and hissed in pain as he was hindered by his injured side.

"Stop. You're going to hurt yourself. Please, I'm fine. I just meant..."

"What..?" He asked, still grimacing at the pain he had caused himself.

"I just meant that it was nice... you holding me."

"Oh." He said. He thanked god that it was still dark for he was sure that he was blushing.

"Yes..." She replied awkwardly. "_Are_ you terribly uncomfortable?"

"I have seen better mornings... but I have also seen worse. The company more than makes up for the discomfort." He replied, surprisingly confident.

"Yes. I daresay it does." She felt for his hand in the darkness and held it tightly.

"...Christine, I must speak with you about something... a matter which I am reluctant to discuss as it may put an end to this dream I have been permitted to live."

She looked at him. What could it possibly be? She had already seen him murder tonight...

"...Yes?" She asked hesitantly.

"Well... there is still time for you to leave... if you so wish."

_I knew it._

"It's just that... you must see that... a life with me... may not be ideal. It may not be what you are looking for. I... I will give you everything that is in my power to give. I would give you my last breath should you ask for it...but..."

She touched his face with one hand and smiled. How could someone be so timid with physical contact and so brazen and forward with words?

"...But there are some things that I cannot give you. Perhaps you would want stability, perhaps you would want a place in society and choosing to be with me... I would surely be robbing you of that. Raoul will return shortly, perhaps you should wish to leave with him. This may be your last chance for a while... If you leave now your reputation would remain. You would have a chance at a decent life..."

"Erik... I..." she began to protest.

"Please... allow me to finish." He said softly. "It means enough that you would come back to me at all. Although troubled these past hours have been they have been some of the happiest I have ever tasted."

"But when will you understand, Erik?"

He put up his finger to silence her but she continued.

"No, listen to me. When will you understand? I do not wish to leave you."

"But surely you must see what your life would be with me? Tonight was but a taste... If only you knew of my past, Christine you might understand."

"Are you saying that you_ wish_ for me to leave?"

"No! God, no!" He took her face in his hands.

"How could you _ever _think such a thing?! I _never_ wish to be parted from you. _Never! _I have tasted life without you in it Christine and it is not something that I would wish to experience again..."

"Well then why would you expect that of me?"

"Because I'm not sure that you know exactly what you have chosen; a life with me is a life almost in solitude. I have lived that Christine and I do not wish to bestow it on anyone, especially you. You... have so much light, _so _much _life _that would be wasted with me. I was so, _so_ selfish to try to _force _that life on you... now that you choose it willingly I feel as though I need to discourage you. Of course, I wish with all that I am for you stay with me... but it is not what is best for you. _Raoul _is what is best for you. A life with me will surely mean drama... trouble follows me, Christine. Because of who I am... _what_ I am..." He gestured to his face mirthlessly. "...I fear that you would never be at peace."

"Why do you doubt me still? Have I not told you of my feelings? I do not _care _what sort of life we lead as long as _we_ lead one. Why, Erik, do you still doubt me? You wish to send me away...?" She questioned, her voice raised.

"I do not wish it."

"You have said that I should leave with Raoul as soon as he returns?"

_That was your plan once before?_

"I said that it would be in your best interest to..."

"To leave. Well, if after all we have been through together tonight, you still doubt me... I am not sure what I _should_ do."

"Christine..." He was becoming frustrated with her argument. She was not listening and she was not letting him finish. Only Christine would be allowed to speak to him in such a way and he was losing his resolve... Perhaps she wanted this, to argue... perhaps she wanted a reason...

_Perhaps she wants to leave?_

"Why, Erik? Why would you think that I would leave?!"

He clenched his fists.

_Because you already did once._

_Don't say that. Don't say it. You will hate yourself._

"...B-Because..." Before he realised what he was doing he had begun to speak.

"Yes?! Why? Because why?"

"Because..."

"Why?!"

"Because you already left once!" The words were out before he could stop himself and immediately he regretted them. The last thing that he wanted was to have yelled at his Christine but he had always had very little self-restraint and his injuries and the cold were making him irritable. He had said something which he deeply regretted. He _had_ already forgiven her for everything she claimed to have done to him... Hadn't he? Perhaps he was able to forgive her but was not able to forget so easily...

The silence following his words was excruciating and it made the weight of them feel heavier; more hurtful than he had intended for them to be.

She stared at him, mouth agape. She had not expected him to react in such a way, nor had she expected those words to fall from his lips. Perhaps he _did _hold a grudge against her for the pain that she had undoubtedly put him through. He was absolutely right... the fault _was_ hers.

"I am sorry." He said at last, his voice deep with emotion. "That was uncalled for. I had no right..."

"You had every right... you must hate me." She looked down.

"No..." He shook his head. "No, of course I don't."

"Will you ever forgive me, then?"

"I told you, I have already forgiven you...It is just that... the pain of you and Raoul... it's still very fresh. I forgave you the very moment I looked at you tonight; when I saw you at the gate to my home... Forgetting will be difficult. But it is my burden, It was wrong of me to use what happened against you. And i must apologize for my temper... it can get the better of me..."

"Don't apologize, please. And I know that I hurt you but... I won't leave, Erik. Believe me."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair irritably. "How... how can I know that? I cannot live that again... that agony. You seemed _so_ sure last time... _so_ decided..." His voice softened again. "You seemed to have your heart set on leaving me..."

"Is that what you think I did...?"

_What?_

"Well..." He was stunned.

"Well you did... you... you gave back the ring and...I..."

"But when I kissed you..." Bittersweet memories flooded his mind. He had never felt so much happiness and so much pain all in one night... that had only been the beginning.

"You... kissed me..." he repeated, slightly embarrassed... this had been the first they had spoken of it.

"Yes... and at first, it _was _to save Raoul but... then I wasn't sure... I felt something, something other than what I had expected to feel. So I kissed you again and... I still wasn't quite sure but I knew that I _did_ want to stay, if only to get to know you... Then when you told me to leave like that... it scared me and I had second thoughts. I thought that you might have been sending me away."

Erik nodded. This was all news to him. He had concocted an entirely different story in his mind; a narrative patched together from madness and overwhelming grief. He was feeling lighter with every word she spoke.

"Then, I came to return the ring you had given me. I felt that I owed you that much closure... an explanation. But I was so confused, in the end I left because Raoul was _sure _about his feelings for me and I suppose that I let him make the choice for me because it was easier."

"But I just couldn't bring myself to leave you and as soon as I saw you again, something just clicked inside of me. As the night wore on... my feelings grew..."

"Yes." Was all he said, he could not meet her gaze. Perhaps he was overcome with emotion or perhaps it was another unique tendency of his, the cause of which she was yet to learn.

Ever so slowly he shakily pulled her into an embrace. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his skin on her face; his warmth around her. His breathing calmed her and if it were not for the fact of them standing up she might have fallen asleep.

"You needn't worry. Should you ever wish to hold me... do not hesitate. I would _not_ reject you and I apologise for making you believe that I would. I have made my choice, Erik. Please, do not doubt me."

Erik did not speak, he simply held her tighter and she knew that he had heard her.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. He found in her embrace a profound tranquillity which he had not experienced anywhere but within his music. Of course, Christine _was _his music.

"It was all... such a mess..." She spoke against his chest; a feeling so utterly rapturous that he lacked the concentration required for an intelligent answer.

"...Yes." He replied, breathing heavily into her curls.

She pulled away from him slightly.

"Where _is_ that ring?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he had hastily deposited there hours ago. He had been so distraught that he had almost forgotten... He grinned and showed it to her.

"Keep it... You may have need of it again soon..." She smiled.

_What did she...?_

"I wish you would smile more." She added. It was so uncharacteristic to see but it suited him so perfectly.

"Up until tonight, my dear I hadn't a reason to."

She wanted to kiss him... really kiss him. Not like earlier when they were both hindered by time, confusion and clouded feelings.

"I want to kiss you." She said quietly before covering her mouth, appalled at herself.

He laughed nervously at the fact that she had said it aloud.

"I apologise... I didn't realise..."

"That you had said it aloud?"

She nodded, smiling. "I... owe you a proper one..."

"...A kiss?"

"Yes."She was relieved at the fact that she didn't have to repeat the word.

"Perhaps under... better... that is to say, more romantic circumstances." He replied. Truthfully, he wanted to kiss her; he wanted to kiss her all the time, now more than ever, but there was so much that he hoped to tell her through their first real kiss and at the moment he could hardly stand...

Erik opened his mouth to speak again when he heard noises approaching; the sound of a horse on the cobblestones. He moved his finger to his lips; a gesture to keep Christine from making a sound. They both stood as still as they possibly could.

_It was probably Raoul... wasn't it? Who else could know where they were?_

_If it were anyone else... they would not be alone... Would they?_

The sound of someone dismounting their horse reached Erik's ears. Despite his pain he held Christine tighter than ever and hoped that it would not be the last time...


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you for the kind reviews, friends!

This is a long one; not too much action this time, more talking and discussion. I felt that the characters needed more understanding of one another. Please let me know what you think.

So, yes! Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber... and himself.

Chapter 12!

* * *

><p>Footsteps drew near. Christine had covered her mouth with her hand so that it would not betray her and make sound. She could almost hear her own pulse and she could feel Erik's heart beating a mile a minute. Perhaps she should speak? If it<em> were<em> Raoul then surely he needed to know where they were... but what if it was someone else. Could someone else have been watching them? Erik held her tightly, as if willing her not to make a sound. Every muscle in his body was rigid and he kept his breathing shallow... she guessed that he was probably quite experienced in this _field; _hiding.

The anticipation was almost too much to bear and part of her wanted to cry out, if only to end this anxiety. Thankfully though the voice that spoke was a familiar one.

"Christine?" Raoul whispered. "Where are you?" They both audibly exhaled. Christine looked up at Erik as he loosened his grip slightly. His eyes questioned her.

_Do you think he is alone?_

"Christine, I got you a horse..."

Reading Erik's troubled mind, Christine mouthed the words that he needed to hear.

_Yes._

Despite Erik's reservations about the man, Christine trusted him. She trusted him with her life. Slowly she stepped out of the alcove to see Raoul's expression change from panic to overwhelming relief. He too must have been wracked with anxiety the entire time; fearing for her well-being, wondering whether she would still be there upon his return or whether any more harm would befall them in his wake.

"Christine. Thank god." He smiled and moved to embrace her when Erik stepped out behind her; overbearingly tall and looking as dangerous as ever. Raoul hesitated and looked to Erik.

"You are safe. Good. I brought the horse that I promised you." He gestured to a large white stallion a few feet behind him. Erik followed Raoul's gesture and looked behind him. Upon seeing the horse that Raoul had chosen, he too changed facial expressions in seconds.

"Caesar!" His face lit up at the sight of the animal and he pushed past the bewildered Vicomte to reach it.

"_Caesar_?" Raoul questioned, looking at Christine.

"His horse." She said, looking over to Erik who was now patting the large animal and whispering to it affectionately. She smiled. This was another side of him she had not yet seen; it was truly wonderful to see him with Caesar. His eyes had taken on an unusual softness and there was a senseless, child-like grin upon his face that made her heart swell with happiness. His horse seemed equally pleased at being reunited with Erik; nuzzling his master and trotting about aimlessly.

"_His _horse? I brought you _his _horse? He has a horse?"

"Yes, I have a horse, boy." Erik spat behind him; the flabbergasted Vicomte was no doubt in wonder at the Phantom's keen hearing. "My parents did not buy it for me though, as I expect yours did."

"Erik... Raoul's parents aren't alive." Christine spoke, trying to put a damper on Erik's temper and cool the situation down before it became heated again.

"No, you only stole it." Raoul spat back, ignoring Christine.

At this, Erik spun around to face Raoul and began walking up to him. Raoul stepped back involuntarily, slightly threatened.

"Stole it? Oh, I suppose you would know all about that, _Vicomte._" Erik spoke venomously. "Do you make a habit of stealing the affections of women, women who had already promised themselves to others...or was I special? And please, Christine, I feel no compassion for Raoul's family situation. Neither would you if you knew of mine..."

"Erik, please just stop." She said.

"How can you act like this when I just performed for you another favor?"Raoul reasoned.

"Favor? You brought me my own horse, boy!" Erik towered over Raoul but he did not budge. "Tell me, did you buy Christine that ring or was _it_ previously owned as well...? Perhaps it was already hers and you simply re-gifted it?"

"Oh, and I suppose you stealing that very same ring and giving it to Christine is another matter entirely? Do remember that it is mine!"

Erik grabbed Raoul by the collar. "Do not dare to tell _me_ what to remember you impudent fool. I warn you, do not push me..." He growled.

"Erik, let him go! This is ridiculous!"

"You warn me? You are just as loathsome as they make you out to be. Put me down or I shall..."

"Shall? You shall what, Vicomte? You may have bested me with your sword that frightful New Year's day in the cemetery, but what now?"

"So, you will not admit it?"

"Admit what you arrogant clod?"

"That the ring _is _mine."

Erik smirked. "Oh yes. The ring is yours... but Christine is not."

At this, Raoul threw his fist into Erik's side, intentionally hitting his injured rib. He immediately dropped Raoul and with a yell of pain keeled over onto the wet cobblestones.

"Erik! Are you alright?" Christine rushed to him and knelt down by his side. "Raoul! Why did you do that!? You could have really injured him!"

"I am not at fault here, Christine. He will live... unfortunately."

"Raoul! Oh why can't you two just get along!? All I ask is for you to be civil to one another! You are like two old women! It is incredibly frustrating!" She turned to Erik who was in a considerable amount of pain. "Can you sit up?"

"...Not yet..." He looked at Raoul with a pained expression on his face. "...Blockhead!"

"Monster." Raoul retorted.

"Just stop!" Christine yelled into the night air. Slowly, she helped Erik rise. He held his side and looked at her.

"Let us go." With great discomfort he walked to his horse; shooting a hostile glare at Raoul as he pushed past him.

"Christine, please contact me as soon as it is safe." Raoul said to Christine, his hand affectionately on her arm. "And do try your best to improve that temper of his, if only for your sake."

She smiled. "I will do my best." She knew that this was goodbye... certainly for a while and possibly forever. She didn't know where her journey with Erik would take her, if it would ever be safe to visit him or if it would be safe to be in France at all. She was dreading having to make eye contact with him but when she did, she did not find what she expected to. There was no hate in his eyes, no blame, and no guilt... just affection. Somehow though, this was worse.

"Raoul... I... I am sorry for everything... I will try to write to you to explain myself but I just feel like a terrible person. You were nothing but fair to me and I have been nothing but awful to you. It seems that no matter what I do I am hurting someone."

"Shh.. It's alright, Christine. Well... if I am being honest... I would rather that you hurt _him_." He gestured to Erik was standing by his horse, glaring at him. "But do not feel bad, please. The heart wants what it wants. Just be safe. That's all I ask..."

Christine smiled at him, tears welling up in his eyes. She hugged him. Erik would have a problem with it but at this moment, she did not care. Raoul still meant a lot to her and it did not feel right to part any other way.

"Keep her safe." He shot at Erik.

"Of course." Erik replied without his usual input of sarcasm and venom he usually saved for interaction with the Vicomte. His response was simple and honest. He _would_ keep her safe; he would protect her with his last breath.

"I will find a way to contact you soon, to let you know that I am alright. I owe you that at least..." Christine said before looking down despondently.

"You owe me nothing, Christine. But yes, I should like to hear from you. Perhaps to visit after a... suitable amount of time has passed... No matter. For the moment, get yourself somewhere safe, deal with... everything else later."

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant by 'everything else'. There was so much that she needed time to think on but the priority was finding refuge off the streets and away from danger. As she walked up to Erik and Caesar, Erik gave her a sympathetic smile. He knew how hard this must all be for her; how draining this night had been and it was not yet over. He helped Christine up onto Caesar's back and with some difficulty, mounted the horse himself and sat behind her. He gripped the reins; this was it, he was holding freedom in his hands. Perhaps it was this thought or the fact that the smooth leather was cooler than he had expected but he shivered slightly. Freedom from the law, from the prison he had built around himself, freedom from solitude...

"Are you strong enough?" Raoul asked him.

"I will be for this; for her." Erik answered in a surprisingly civil tone. Raoul nodded curtly.

Erik turned Caesar around, preparing to leave. He had had enough of this boy's smug face and they were running out of time.

"Wait... Raoul, what is the time?" Christine asked.

Raoul checked his pocket watch and with a puzzled expression on his face, answered.

"Five o'clock."

"Almost dawn." Erik said quietly. "We should go."

"Yes..."

"Good bye, Christine."

"Good bye, Raoul." As they rode away and Raoul faded into the distance, she could not help but feel that a piece of her faded with him; her childhood perhaps. This night had matured her more than most of her time at the Opera had and she feared that soon, Raoul would be nothing but another memory from her past, her childhood that she could look back on fondly.

Raoul had been one of the few people to have known her father... so was saying goodbye turning her back on him? No, she had chosen her Angel of Music; her father would have wanted this... No, she had to stop living in that childish dream. This was a real man; this night had taught her that. She had made her choice like an adult. No more memories, no more fantasies or illusions.

Erik regarded Christine silently. She had not spoken since they had departed Raoul's company.

"I will keep Caesar at a walking pace until we are out of Paris. They may be watching for this sort of thing so I don't want to make too much noise." As soon as he had spoken he cursed himself for making such small talk. There was no sound but that of Caesar's hooves on the pavement; this seemed to intensify the stagnant atmosphere.

"...Alright." She said quietly.

"Christine I... know this must be difficult for you, I know that you cared for him..."

"No it... isn't that." She looked down.

Erik shifted uncomfortably then began again. "Well... if you are worried about... our living arrangements... I promise that I have nothing but honorable intentions... You needn't fear..."

"No..." She laughed slightly. "It's not that either." She could tell that he was uncomfortable with this topic and felt the need to stop him before he embarrassed himself further.

"Well... something is wrong, and do not insult my intelligence by trying to deny the fact. I _have_ known you for a long time..."

"Yes. Well... it isn't Raoul. That is to say, it isn't that I do not want to leave_ him. _It is more about what he represents. Leaving him is leaving this whole world. The only one I have known besides my father. And Raoul knew my father... so, in a way I am feeling a sense of loss..."

"But... you do not regret..."

"No! I told you. I do not regret my choice." She placed her hands over his in front of her and she thought that she felt him jerk slightly.

"It is just a big step for me, you see."

For a moment the sensation of her hands on his prevented him speaking. Did she even have the smallest understanding of the power which she had over him? Would she ever?

"...I understand... perhaps more than anyone. I have lived there longer than you, do not forget."

"Yes." She smiled.

"If it is your wish, you shall see him again. If you choose to stay with me, there will be no rules. Not this time, Christine. As much as I dislike the man, I too would do anything for your happiness."

"...Anything?" She smiled.

"Well... within reason?" He wondered what was on her mind.

"Would you... consider being my teacher again?"

"Teacher?" He laughed. "I... Well it does feel like an eternity since I have allowed myself the pleasure of music... but I... just don't know about that. I have reservations about it because of everything that happened. I want this to be a fresh start... and the relationship we had was built on nothing but lies and I fear that if... we start that again..."

"What...?"

"Well... If we start that again... you might be reminded of everything that I... how I acted and... change your mind."

"But you wanted me to return to you... remember? You mentioned it at the Bal Masque..."

"Christine, please. Let us not dwell on those times." He said curtly.

She sighed. She could tell that he had closed himself off and that this conversation was not to be continued as it was so she tried a different tactic.

"Well... I can understand your apprehension but the truth is that I _am _in need of a tutor... I had hoped that you would fill that position but if you are not interested in the role then I shall simply have to seek out someone else..."

"What?! You would not dare." He retorted seriously. "Who else could possibly measure up to your standards... to mine? Who else in Paris possesses the musical skill and knowledge required for such a task? I have not come across a better musician in my time and I doubt that..."

"You haven't left me any choice, Erik."

"But how...? How could you possibly subject your voice, your _instrument_ to a sub-standard... I will take up the position."

"So... you will do it?!" She turned around as much as she could and beamed at him, eyes wide.

"Yes. Of course. I cannot have some inexperienced buffoon destroying our progress. How could you possibly..."

"Calm yourself. I was not being serious."

"I... what?"

"I would never seek out another tutor." She smiled.

Erik took a deep breath and laughed at himself in disbelief. He was not usually so gullible. "I... good. That is good. You should not be so cruel to your tutor, Christine." He grinned, smugly. She turned back around and did the same.

"It isn't that I did not want to, you understand. The hours of your music lessons were some of my best..."

"Yes. Mine too. It will be fine; just like before only better." She smiled. "So... where are we going, exactly?"

"Ah. I was wondering when you would ask." His voice was warm and comforting behind her. How could one person have so many facets to their character? "I have a small house outside of Paris which I keep for emergencies such as this. It is fully stocked with food and clothes and... I keep some ladies clothing too..." He hesitated. "I always kept it there in case there was a small chance of... well this very scenario playing out. I wanted you to be comfortable."

"How thoughtful." She smiled.

"Yes."

"You had been... thinking of me for quite a while then...?"

"Yes." He thought it best not to disclose the _amount _of time; 10 years or so.

After a short, awkward silence, she spoke again. "Forgive me but... how do you keep it stocked? Forgive me if this sounds rude but... did you leave the Opera often?"

"Occasionally I would leave at night. Other times Madame Giry would assist me."

"Oh! You two know one another? How is that so?"

"...A long story I'm afraid, perhaps for another time."

"But I would be quite interested to know..."

"Not just now, Christine. Please, just leave it." Again, his character had changed. The Phantom had returned.

"Alright..."

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind terribly if... I rested on you? It's just that I'm quite tired and..."

"No! Not at all... Of course... you can."

_Please do._

With that she leaned back into him. Surrounded by his chest and arms she felt incredibly safe.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. You are keeping me warm, in fact." He smiled. It did hurt, yes, but Christine wanted to lean on him, she wanted to. She _asked _to. He would of course oblige. The sensation of her hair against his bare skin was heavenly, in a way it was keeping him alert, but he was already beyond exhausted and her other-worldly warmth threatened to put him to sleep... again... Aside from his nap earlier; the nap that landed him in quite a predicament he had never felt so comfortable. He would have to make a conscious effort to stay awake.

They continued on in silence for a few minutes and soon Christine began notice a change in the landscape; Buildings were become increasingly scarce. Soon after she noticed this, Caesar began to trot.

"Hold on." He said to her. Changing Caesar's gait was seemingly the only way to stay conscious under such circumstances.

"The sun is coming up." She remarked as she noticed that the highlights on her surroundings had changed from a blue to a yellow.

"Yes. We shall have to make up some time if we wish to reach our destination undiscovered. Hold on tightly, Christine. We should be there in an hour or so." With that, he moved Caesar into a gallop. By now the ache in his side was maddening; with every motion a fresh jolt of pain shot through him.

Each time Caesar hit the ground he had to remind himself of where he was, who was with him, how far he had come, how far _they _had come together. They were almost there. He could almost taste his freedom, his happiness. Christine would be his, day and night. They could live together as man and woman; as regular people. Perhaps they would travel together or perhaps they would simply live out their days in mundanity. It hardly mattered to him. It seemed though as though it were too good to be true. It almost always was. Could happiness really be this attainable? He had suffered to get where he was but was it enough? It never seemed to be. Perhaps something _would _happen. Perhaps the Gendarmerie had followed them, perhaps someone else had. Perhaps it would be a gunshot in the back, or maybe someone would be waiting for them at their destination. With every piece of ground covered he risked it all; his life, Christine's...

Someone like him was never allowed happiness for very long...

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><p>The man had watched them sneak into the alley. He had watched their conversation and their embrace. He had seen them mount the horse and he had seen where they went... <em>They<em> would want to know what he had found. He would have to inform them of his findings. He would return later.


	13. Chapter 13

So, this is really long one... longest one yet actually but i felt like it all needed to be in the one chapter. Its a bit of conversation and a bit of fluff i guess. Sorry for the late-ish update. Things are getting busier for me now. Thank you to all the readers and reviewers etc. Really helpful! :)

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber

* * *

><p>After a while, Erik slowed Caesar down to a steady walking pace once more. They had not spoken for about an hour. The sun had well and truly risen and now, above all else Erik was fearing the moment when Christine would have to look upon his face; this was the first time she will have looked on him in actual sunlight, almost all other times the shadows had given him <em>some<em> reprieve from her searching eyes. Perhaps she would change her mind entirely with a single glance. Erik steered Caesar to the left and they continued down a small, dirt road.

"...How much longer?" Christine asked groggily. She yawned and stretched. Erik smiled. She must have been just as relaxed as he was and had fallen asleep on him.

On _him. _

_Again._

"I'm sorry I didn't keep you company, I must have dozed off." She said, yawning again.

"It's quite alright, Christine. Not long now; ten minutes or so."

_Ten minutes until you see my face for the first and last time; the way it truly is._

_Ten minutes until you leave again; until this face ruins me, again._

"Quite a... bright day, wouldn't you say?" He remarked nervously. He couldn't remember the last time he had been out in this much sunlight. Part of him hoped that she _would_ mention his face just so that It could be out in the open; so that he could be sure she wouldn't run.

"Yes. A lovely day." She beamed, clearly not picking up on his nervous undertones. "This is all quite exciting isn't it? Now that... much of the danger is behind us."

"The danger will never _truly_ be behind us, Christine. You know this, don't you?"

"Yes I know, I know. But at least we can enjoy this moment, can't we? I'm sure that our troubles are not over just yet but for now we have escaped and we are alive... and we are together."

"Yes." He smiled.

_Until you turn around._

"...What's wrong?" She asked.

"What? What could possibly be wrong, Christine? I have _you_ with me."

She smiled dismissively. "Something is wrong. I can tell that something is on your mind..."

"We are that well acquainted already?" He responded, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't be like that, Erik. Just tell me what is on your mind." She persisted. Perhaps she _did_ know him...

"Alright, fine." He sighed as if to imply that explaining it would be hugely inconvenient... "You know some of what I have lived through, very little. You must know that we are all the product of our environment and _my _life has taught me simply that I need to hide my face. This lesson has been drilled into me for as long as I can remember; sometimes by force. I am sure you know that I... do not appreciate daylight as much as say... Raoul would. I do not cast aspersions on your character or on you as a person and... I will not judge you on past acts as I have promised... but... what I am trying to say is that..."

She wished that she could see him; look into his eyes, but something told her that if she chose to turn around at this moment he would stop talking and the conversation would be over.

He sighed again, frustrated with himself.

"I am trying to say that..."

"Are you worried that once I see your face in the light, I will leave?"

He exhaled. "Yes." He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath...

"I understand your reservations about daylight... about me. You know that I would not leave, because I have told you as such. However, if you aren't ready for me to see your face properly... that is fine too."

"Thank you... Christine." He said quietly. "You must understand that it is not you that I doubt... it is myself. Each and every time someone has seen my face it has ended the same way. The screams of others I have grown used to, but if you were to react in such a way... I could not bear it."

"You shan't have to." She smiled. "Now tell me..." She began, deciding to change the subject. "How long have you had Caesar? _Did _you steal him like Raoul mentioned?"

"Please do not tell me you believe everything that fool utters from those petulant lips of his? As it happens... I _did... _borrow Caesar..."

"Oh... borrow!" She laughed.

"Yes, borrow!" He smiled. "I_ did_ borrow Caesar from the company a few years back but I assure you that he was always well looked after."

"How is it that Raoul found him among the other horses if he is kept with you?"

"The last time I left the Opera I did not have time to take him back down with me. As it happens he was in the right place. If he had been down in the cellars with me last night things may not have gone so smoothly... I do not think it possible for a horse use a ladder..." He smirked.

"I wouldn't say that things went smoothly at all, Erik."

"Well, no. Things could _always_ be worse though..."

"I suppose." She mused. Clearly he had experienced _'worse'_.

"...This is nice." She began.

"What? The ride?"

"Well, yes. I meant the talking though. It's quite nice being able to speak with you like this. It's nice to know that after all this time we actually get along quite well..."

"I am relieved to hear it. Last night and this morning... it is probably the most I have spoken in a year."

"Well, you're quite good at it."

"Thank you." He smirked. If only she knew what it actually felt like... After all this time he was finally able to converse with her, to touch her, hold her. He was _allowed _to. It was more than he would have dared to dream of only a week prior. The magnitude of what he was feeling was seemingly imperceptible to Christine... part of him hoped it was. If he could remain by her side he would never be in need of anything else.

"We are just like a lady and a gentleman having a conversation."

"Almost normal." He mused.

"We _are _normal." She responded reassuringly.

"Yes... Well here we are." Finally they had come to a clearing in the landscape; not a moment too soon... The dirt track they had been following opened up to reveal a small, double-storey cottage surrounded by greenery. Vines crept up the stone walls and the dirt track continued around to the back of the cottage. There was a small, broken-down well to the right of them; beautiful in its state of disuse.

"It's not much... but it should be safe for the present time."

"It's beautiful! It's perfect... it reminds me of my father's house by the sea... It's the greenery, I think... or perhaps it was just the way I felt; that happiness that I find familiar. Help me down, Erik so I can take a closer look."

Erik slowly began to dismount Caesar, once more grimacing at the pain the movement caused him.

_Almost there now._

Each second brought him closer to what could quite possibly be his final moment with Christine. Of course, if she wished to leave him after this, he would allow it. He would even escort her back despite the risks... and the heartache. His boots hit the dirt and he stood for a moment facing Caesar; his fists clenched.

_Just do it. Better to get it over with. _

_I'm going to regret this._

He _had_ to reveal himself to her; his true self. No more lies. No more pretense. Erik took a deep breath before taking a step forward and presenting himself to Christine. She looked down at him. Yes, he looked a mess; perhaps worse than ever given his injuries and the night they had had. His face was just as she had remembered it to be but she took a moment to study it; his right eye was still slightly sunken in and the eye-lid still drooped as she had remembered it. The reddened mass of uneven flesh stretched from the right side of his nose to his skull where no hair grew. His face actually looked better than it had previously; perhaps it was the lighting, perhaps it was in contrast to the other side of his face which now looked quite bad due to the blood... perhaps it was something else... Her gaze reached his eyes, pleading and piercing blue; they were hoping, _praying _that she would accept him, that she would be different; that in the cold light of day her feelings had not changed for him. She knew that he was expecting some sort of response; a signal to show him that she was neither afraid nor disgusted with what she saw.

She smiled at him and stretched her arms out for assistance. "If you don't help me down from here, I shall have to jump. Then we may both be injured." For this she was rewarded with a rare sight. Never had she seen a more genuinely placated smile. His eyes seemed brighter than they ever had and they possessed a certain warmth that she had not yet seen. It was the smile of a boy; elated, unhindered... perhaps it _was _the smile of a boy; a boy who was finally able experience the acceptance and love he had been searching for his entire life. It seemed as if everything had been building up to this moment for Erik and one little smile from Christine was all it took for one of his many barriers to come crashing down.

He reached up and helped Christine down from the horse. Without speaking he pulled her into his arms and burying his face in her curls, held her tightly and exhaled.

"Thank you." He breathed shakily.

Christine did not respond. The fact that he felt the need to _thank _her for something so small; something so many took for granted was more than she could bear. She was not ignorant to what this moment meant to him; she had seen it all in his pained eyes as he had stared up at her, begging her to accept him, to want him, to _love _him. Being mindful of his injuries she embraced him in return. She wanted to weep, weep for him, for his suffering but she restrained herself. She could tell by the way he was desperately gripping her that he was already quite emotional and the last thing she needed was for him to misconstrue her sadness; if he thought for a second that she was weeping because of him rather than for him this would all be over. She knew by now that he could be quite capricious and irrational when upset. He would not give her time to explain herself and the trust would be broken. She built up her courage and placed a small kiss on his neck.

"Oh... Christine." He purred; his voice deep and gravelly. "You... truly have redeemed me... Just by being you..."

"Erik, you... are... wonderful. You are... well you are _quite_ temperamental but you are witty and caring and... loving and amazing... You are talented in ways that most men could not possibly imagine and you... are beautiful."

Of course Erik could not begin to believe what she had just told him. Truthfully, most of it was lost on him. His head was still spinning from the kiss she had so generously bestowed upon him. He did not respond until he was sure that he could control his voice.

"Come, I must take Caesar around the back and cool him off, then we can go inside."

Erik led Caesar around the side of the house and into the small stable at the back.

"It's good that Caesar will be out of sight."

"Yes. Part of the reason I chose this property."

Christine watched as Erik lovingly washed his horse down. Caesar hastily accepted the bucket full of drinking water in Erik's hands.

"You and me both, Môn ami." Erik said affectionately. "You must be hungry?" He looked up at Christine. "Thirsty perhaps? Both? I know that I am. Shall we go inside?"

"Yes!" Christine exclaimed, excitedly. They walked back to the front of the cottage where Erik produced a small key from underneath the front step. Before he could put the key in the lock, Christine embraced him.

"Ouch..." His wince soon changed to a smile. "What's this for?" He smiled.

"We made it. Our lives can begin." He looked down at her and allowed himself a momentary indulgence. Her eyes were swimming with possibilities for them both and for a moment he found himself lost in their chocolate depths.

_Our _lives.

_Our._

"...Let's go inside" Their eyes seemed to be locked together and he had to consciously look away lest he be frozen in this blissful moment. He turned to the door and unlocked it.

"After you." He said, holding the door open with great difficulty. "I know it isn't a lot. I wish I could give you what you really deserve..."

"Erik, stop. I love it."

"Well... I think that it is an upgrade from where we used to live..." He smirked.

"Most definitely."

Slowly, Erik sat down on a chair that was by the door.

"No, come on. Let's clean your wounds so that you can properly rest."

"No. I'm fine, Christine." He began to stand up again. "I'll make us some tea." Clearly he was trying to delay that which he was not looking forward to.

"Tea? Erik, I have not come all this way just so that you can die of infection. Now, where are your bandages and... things?"

"Things." He smirked under his breath.

_How cute._

He sighed. Everything is in the cupboard... there... in the corridor."

Christine walked over to where Erik had gestured and returned with bandages and alcohol. She then found the kitchen and returned with a bowl of water.

"I should start with your face."

He laughed cynically. "I'm afraid there isn't much you can do there, my dear."

"Erik." She said sternly. She was far too fatigued for his self- deprecating humor.

"It's fine though, really. Let me do that. I can't reach my back, would you do that for me Christine?"

"Don't be like this."

"I'm not being _like_ anything_. _Please, allow me some dignity. I would rather you not look upon my face for an extended period of time..."

"_Just let me do this, Erik!_"

"...Alright." He stared at her, shocked at how forthright she had just been.

"Sorry... I"

Erik waved his hands in a dismissive gesture.

"It's fine. Work your magic, Môn ange." He smiled.

She wiped away most of the excess blood from his face. Now that she could actually identify the injuries, it was not as bad as she had once feared. His face was bruised and there was some swelling, but the large cut on this cheek would not need stitches and the rest were quite small.

"Sorry about this." She said, holding up the alcohol.

"It has to be done." He nodded. He winced as she sterilized the wounds on his face. The large cut on his chest _did _need stitches but he calmly guided her through the process in spite of the pain and she dutifully followed.

"I'm not looking forward to this." She said when it was time to treat his back.

"Neither am I." He said, taking the cape off.

The process of cleaning the wounds on his back took the longest and it was the most painful but Erik did his best not to cry out so as to not frighten Christine.

"That part is never easy." He breathed. "You did well, Christine. Thank you."

When she had finished she wrapped the bandages she had found around his torso.

"This has happened to you before, then...?"

"Oh yes."

"Well I... noticed old scars on your back but I didn't want to pry..."

"Yes... in the past I have had... encounters such as last night"

"I... never quite know what to do when you say something like that; When you talk about your past. You speak about it so casually and I can't imagine the horrors you went through"

"Oh." He laughed. "I am sorry. I had not meant to frighten you. I speak of it in such a casual manner because it is the only way I can cope with it. If it disturbs you in any way I... will make a point not to bring it up again."

"No, I don't want you to stop speaking of it... I want to know but i... just don't know what to say."

"You needn't say anything." He smiled. "I don't mention my past because... I'm looking for some misguided sense of pity..."

"Yes, I know. It is confusing in a way because sometimes you want to speak of it and sometimes you don't..."

"I want to speak of it on my own terms." He said plainly. "If I feel as though I can handle the weight of a certain memory then I will discuss it. If I'm feeling particularly vulnerable, then I won't. It's quite hard to explain, Christine. I don't expect you to understand..."

"Don't treat me like that, Erik."

"Like what?"

"Like I could not _possibly _understand you. I _want _to understand you but sometimes I think that you don't want me to..."

"I don't mean to sound condescending, Christine. I simply meant that I do not expect you to understand me because most of the time, I do not understand myself." He stood up and walked to the window.

"I am a complex man, Christine. My mind is a dark, chaotic place. Most of the time tumultuous memories cloud my thoughts, nightmares rob me of sleep and my own thoughts threaten to push me over the edge. You cannot live the life I have and not be changed... scarred..." He gestured to his back. "As much as I feel for you, I cannot simply change who I am and divulge... everything."

"I know that." She walked up to him. "I am willing to wait."

"I cannot become the outgoing, social man you may be searching for."

Was that a reference to Raoul...?

"I never wanted you to change. I do not wish for you to be any different. It's just that you know so much about me and... I want to know about you."

He sighed. "If it makes you feel more at ease... you know more about me now than most people on this earth."

He was being dismissive with her and although she knew why, she wasn't at ease. She _knew_ that he was complex and that he was a private person but how could she possibly get close to him if he wasn't going to share anything with her?

"Come. We should change out of these clothes and find something to eat. Follow me." He led her up a set of old wooden stairs and into a small bedroom containing nothing but a bed, a wardrobe and a small window overlooking the dirt road upon which they had traveled.

"No mirror?" She asked, slightly disappointed.

He looked at her; a look which admonished her for asking such a question.

"Yes." She nodded. "Right."

"There... is only one bed but... don't distress. I shall take the couch downstairs."

"No. You will have the bed. You're injured! No need for chivalry here, Erik. I can see how much discomfort you are in."

"Come now, Christine. You shall have the bed. It is the least I can do..."

"We cannot risk it. You need proper rest after everything. Take the bed!"

"Well... ordinarily I would _not _oblige but you are right..." His side was throbbing and a sleep on the lumpy sofa downstairs would do him no good at all. "Anyway..." Hesitantly he opened the wardrobe to reveal a number of decorated dresses and garments. "These are your clothes... I'm afraid I don't have any ladies nightwear. Until I have opportunity to attain such items, I fear that one of my night shirts will have to suffice..."

"...That will be fine." She responded, slightly embarrassed at the thought of wearing his clothing. "These dresses are beautiful, by the way."

He smiled proudly.

"These are all your clothes?" She questioned, taking note of the right side of the wardrobe; finely tailored shirts, waistcoats and tailcoats hung neatly in line.

"Yes."

"Phantom clothes..." She mused quietly.

To this he laughed audibly. "What? What does that mean?" He smiled.

"I didn't realize I had said that out loud... I just meant that these were the clothes you wore when I knew you as 'The Phantom'" She laughed.

"I see. Then what, pray tell does Erik's attire consist of?" He teased.

Unintentionally her eyes flicked down at his body and she blushed. Under the bandages he was still considerably under dressed...

His eyes caught her gaze almost immediately and he snatched a shirt off one of the hangers; suddenly quite conscious of himself. A sheepish grin on his face, he pulled a second shirt from inside the wardrobe and handed it to her.

"...You should change... It's unwise to stay in damp clothes for an extended period of time, particularly in this weather."

She took it gratefully. "Erik... what did you mean before, when you said that I was searching for an outgoing man...?"

"I meant nothing of it, really."

"Did you mean Raoul... because I don't..."

"Did you want me to mean Raoul?" He turned to her.

"No... I"

"Have you thought about him since you have been with me? I can't say that I blame you... He is the ideal man, I must admit. Does he seem ideal to you, Christine?" his voice was now rising and it was dripping with sarcasm. Christine could see that this was escalating.

"I was just asking if you meant Raoul because if you _did _you would be wrong!"

"_Why _do you keep bringing him up, Christine?"

"I don't!" Now her voice was raised. "_You _do!"

"...Because if you want to go to him, perhaps you should!"

"Urgh... I don't! ...Why do you keep dismissing me!? And stop yelling at me!"

"I am not..." He sighed. "I am yelling. I am sorry, Christine." He walked back over to the wardrobe and gently closed the doors. "I am no longer hungry... if you wish you can help yourself to any food in the house. There should be fresh bread on the bench top and you will find a range of accoutrement there as well."

"Erik, please. Let's eat together."

"I'm not in the mood... Take the bed, please." With that, he walked down stairs.

Christine flopped down on the bed in frustration. What could she possibly do with this man? He was infuriating! Perhaps, in time she would learn to deal with his shortcomings but for now, she needed rest. A good sleep would put everything in perspective.

* * *

><p>Erik sat down on the couch, grimacing at the pain he had caused himself in his haste. Perhaps he had been too short with her... He was aware of his temper, yes... and perhaps he <em>had <em>overreacted... but he was no fool. Surely Christine had thought about the boy since they had last spoken. Surely with every new hardship she would think twice about her choice; reconsider her options. If that was the case, perhaps he should escort her back sooner rather than later.

"Erik..." a small voice sounded from the bottom of the stairs. He turned to see Christine standing before him in his night shirt... For a moment he stared at her in awe, his eyes hastily searching her body. He couldn't breathe.

He cursed himself and turned away. "Christine... this is highly improper." He said shakily. Surely he was expecting some sort of response from the entrancing woman at the bottom of the stairs but the words she spoke were not at all what he was expecting.

"Come upstairs..."


	14. Chapter 14

So! This one has some fluff and a bit of mystery... and a bit of Erik angst. Which is normal... Thank you to the new followers and the subscribers AND thank you to the old ones; to the ones who have stuck with this story for 14 chapters. I really appreciate the support!

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

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><p>"Come upstairs..." She said softly. His breath caught in his throat. Her dark curls, cascading over her shoulders were a brilliant contrast to the perfection of her porcelain, white skin. His shirt fit loosely over her body but with the morning sun streaming in he could see every outline of her shape...<p>

_Did she mean? Could she possibly mean...?_

"I don't like to sleep alone..." She added. Thank god; at least she wasn't implying _that..._

"You cannot be serious, Christine? I could not possibly. Not with you dressed like that... not at all."

"But you told me to wear this..?"

"Yes. I wanted you to be comfortable. I can't come upstairs. Not like this. I cannot do it..."

"Do what? I'm simply asking you to lie down with me..."

"Surely you know that it is not that simple?" She stared at him, her eyes questioning him innocently.

"I don't know what you mean? Do you not wish to lie with me?"

"Oh Christine, you precious, naive child, don't you understand? It isn't that I_ don't_ wish to lie with you... it's that I do!"

She stared at him blankly. He sighed in frustration.

"To put it plainly I simply do not trust myself." Finally he looked up; His eyes staring at her intently to see whether or not she had understood his meaning.

"Oh." She said; her face reddening as the realization struck her. "I'm sorry, I did not realize."

"Never apologize for innocence, Christine." His face softened and he smiled at her.

"Also I am... sorry for earlier." He added, fiddling with a piece of thread he had pulled from one of the tattered cushions next to him... "I have a nasty temper and I have the tendency to overreact."

_Yes, you do._

"It's alright." She said, taking a tentative step towards him.

"It isn't alright." He said, standing up and looking away again, as if to keep the distance between them. "You should not be made to stand trial for all who have wronged me over the years. You, one of the few who have shown me kindness..."

"Don't stress about it, Erik. Really..." She began to walk towards him once more.

He stepped back slightly, then, with his gaze focused on anything except the woman in front of him, he spoke. "Stay here a moment." He rushed past her and up the stairs and after a moment, returned with a robe of sorts.

"This is mine also. It will be very long no doubt, but I think that you should wear it." Before she could acquiesce he had already draped the robe over her small shoulders. "There. Much better." He said, actually looking at her. "Now... shall we find something to eat after all?"

"I would like that." She smiled.

* * *

><p>They ate in silence; mostly due to exhaustion.<p>

"I'm famished." She finally said with a mouth full of food. Erik looked at her, an amused grin on his face. "Sorry..." She said after realizing what he was smirking at. "That isn't proper, is it?" His actions had always been the epitome of propriety, save for a few small occasions and she didn't want him to think her un-ladylike.

"You can do as you wish around me, Christine. I won't judge you on how you eat your food or how you speak... or... how you choose to marry the two." He teased.

She stifled a laugh. "This is quite good though."

"It is only bread and accoutrement." He laughed.

"Well it's good! Not that you would know... you haven't eaten much at all."

He glanced at the piece of bread he had been turning over in his hands for some time "I have a lot on my mind." He said, leaning back in his chair, the laughter leaving his voice.

_You always do._

He carelessly threw the piece of bread on the table and rested his hands in his lap.

"Yes well, rest will certainly help with that..."

_Will it?_

He had so many concerns. He knew that at some point she would expect more from him and he wasn't sure when he would be ready to give her what she wanted. She wanted him to open up to her, to divulge his deepest, darkest secrets and repressed memories. Was there anything wrong with wanting that from a partner? _If _that was what he was to her? No, there wasn't. She deserved so much more than him... so much more than this distorted shell of a man. Perhaps the world had taken everything he had left to give; perhaps after all this, he would have nothing _left_ to give to the one person who deserved everything. He also knew that at some point she would want other things... how could he possibly begin to tell her why he could not provide those? There was so much that she did not understand and there was so much that he did not know... how could they possibly make this work?

Most of all he had told her that she would be safe where they were... at least for a little while, but what if something should happen? He could not bear to fail her again. Worse still was the fact that she blindly believed him, trusted him...

_I gave my mind blindly. _

"I for one have had my fill and am done here." She pushed her chair back and stood up, truly oblivious to all of his concerns...

Erik looked up at her.

"Please come and lie with me?"

He thought for a moment. He did yearn for the sublime rest that only a soft mattress could provide... but he yearned for her also... he yearned for her so much that it frightened him and she did not seem to understand the difficulties he would be facing in submitting to her request. "... Alright." He finally said.

* * *

><p>Christine lay down on the bed. Erik kicked off his boots and lay next to her.<p>

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Not to worry, Christine. I will get through it." He smiled.

"Your side looked... quite bruised when I saw it. I hope it isn't serious."

"A fractured rib, most likely. Nothing to do for that though, I'm afraid."

Without speaking she moved closer to him and gently draped her arm across his chest.

"What... are you doing?" He questioned, jerking away slightly. "I told you, Christine..."

"Just relax." She soothed. Slowly he eased back down into his position and put his arm around her. Maybe it would be alright... Christine smiled to herself.

"This... this is nice." He said.

"Yes. It is. This is how we should have spent our _first _night together... Not that it _is _night..."

"Yes." He mused, quite contented. He was elated just to be where he was.

_I would go through all of it again... twice if I had to._

She looked up at him and their eyes met. Lifting herself up slightly she leant in, closed her eyes and kissed him softly on the lips.

Erik immediately closed his eyes too and for the moment allowed himself to become entirely lost in the soft complexity of her kiss. It was everything he had ever hoped it to be; what he had experienced after Don Juan and more because he knew that _this _kiss was for him... it was truly _his_... just as _she_ was. He felt himself losing all control of his emotions and tears started to form in his tightly shut eyes. Their lips did not move; they were simply locked together in a moment of pure passion and long repressed emotion. Neither of them dared take a breath until Christine finally pulled away and they found themselves steeply inhaling the breath of one another. Erik reached up to hold Christine's face in his hands and he gently pulled her forehead to meet his. They gazed into each other's eyes and Erik did nothing to mask the broad smile which was slowly spreading across his face.

"Christine..." He breathed. "You... quite take my breath away..."

She smiled and stroked his face affectionately before placing another small kiss on the corner of his mouth. Finally the barrier had been broken; she had wanted to kiss him since their _first_ kiss... _that kiss..._

"But... I do not think that I possess the strength to... resist you anymore." He ran a hand through her hair.

"Then don't..." She said.

Those words were all he needed. He rolled her over so that he was leaning over her and hungrily captured her mouth with his. The first try was a fumble and he was convinced that he may have slightly hurt her but soon he was in control. This was all just another skill to master and he did so with alacrity. Each kiss was deeper than the last and what little Christine showed him he quickly learned and expanded upon. For fear of crushing her he propped himself up on one elbow and allowed his free hand to explore her body... He left her mouth and began to place small kisses up the side of her neck, from the base of her collarbone to the soft skin behind her ear. To this her body responded enthusiastically and arched towards him. He moved back up to her mouth and allowed his free hand to glide down to the curve of her hip and back up again.

Christine took her chance to explore his body as well. Her hands went from the sides of his face to the back of his neck where they gripped tightly.

"Oh... Christine..." He growled into her neck.

She knew he had never kissed before, never done _anything_ like this before, but he was picking it up so fast and she was beginning to feel things that she had never conceived possible with Raoul.

Her wandering hands moved across his strong shoulders and down his arms; she took a moment to grasp the muscle there which rippled and tensed as he moved his arms to touch her. She moved her hands back up his arms and down his back, neglecting to mind his injuries. He flinched and pulled away slightly.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized hastily.

"It's fine." He purred and leant back into her, recapturing her mouth, this time kissing her more gently; savouring each and every second their mouths were locked together. She smiled and put her hands back on him. She gently ran them down his sides and brought them back up underneath his shirt; allowing herself the sensation of bare skin beneath her hands. She had always wondered what this would feel like... She gripped his shoulders underneath his shirt as his kiss deepened. Slowly, relishing the moments her hands were met with bare skin amongst the bandages she moved her hands back down to his waist. Hungrily she pulled his head towards her, deepening the kiss further while in an attempt to explore more of his body she let her free hand run up his front. Her fingers trailed upward from the start of his trousers to the bandage where he caught her hand in his and jerked away slightly. He smiled into her mouth.

"What is it? I thought you were hurt on the _other_ side? Did I hurt you?"

"No. It's not that."He responded, still smiling.

"What is it?" She was genuinely puzzled.

"Ticklish, I'm afraid."

"Really?" She smiled.

"Unfortunately."

"Well... don't worry; I won't tickle you until you have healed... It wouldn't be fair of me to do it when it pains you to laugh... and I fear that I may not enjoy it quite as much if you don't... so I shall wait." She teased.

"Oh, how generous of you..." He smirked, placing another kiss on her neck.

"Well... _If _you're going to be like that, I should just do it now." Before he could catch her hand she had reached back down and squeezed his side. He let out a small laugh and swiftly caught it again.

"No.._.No_... That's quite alright." He smiled.

She laughed. "Hmm... now I know what to do when I want something from you."

"Firstly, that isn't in the slightest bit fair..." He smiled. "And secondly... I shall give you what you want no matter what you do to me, you know that."

She smiled and kissed him again. He leaned back over her it and deepened it once more as his hands roamed the curves of her hips and legs. She pulled him in closer to her, again arching her body in pleasure to meet his. Soon it would be difficult to stop... soon it would be _impossible_ to stop.

"Wait... Christine we..." Erik managed in between kisses. "We... should stop." He breathed pulling back slightly. "I... can't. This isn't right..."

"Isn't right?" She questioned, out of breath. What did he mean?

"What I _mean _to say is that... it isn't right _now_..." He gently moved to the side and sat up with his hands resting on his knees. "We aren't married, Christine. It isn't proper. If we go any further I... shan't be able to control myself. I warned you of this..."

"I know... to hell with propriety though, Erik..."

"You don't mean that Christine. If we do... that...that will be it. There is only one first time... And if you give yourself to me... to _me... _To me of all people." Upon uttering the last words and now he seemed only to be speaking to himself. He looked down and chuckled cynically.

"But... I want you... " She sat in front of him and touched his arm reassuringly. He looked up at her. "I want _you." _He smiled and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. He could make something so simple seem so intimate.

"I want _you, _Erik." Erik smiled at the woman in front of him. Would she ever know how long he had waited to hear those words or how much they meant to him? He leaned in until their foreheads touched. "I want you too... More than you know." He clenched his jaw, his eyes closed. "I..." He wanted to say the words once more, to tell her that he loved her... because he did. He had never stopped loving her and now was the right time to say it. She wanted him. She wanted _him; _Erik, but as soon as he opened his mouth to speak the words he had always known to be true he was reminded of the last time he had done so.

His home.

His _lair._

His _prison._.. _Her _prison...

And of course... the rejection. The choice she had made. What if, once more she did not return his feelings... did it matter? He had known how she felt the last time he had declared his love... Yes; it did matter. This time it mattered. Erik gathered every scrap of courage he had within himself and spoke the words...

"I... I... Love you, Christine." He stammered.

Christine inhaled sharply. "I... Erik, I..."

_Is she going to say it? _

_She won't. She won't say it._

_Please say it._

_Please love me..._

She stared at him with a desperate look in her eyes that lay somewhere between affection and pity... Erik sighed. Not again... "It is alright if you don't love me, Christine. It is enough that you are here... I don't know what I expected... it was... silly of me. No matter."

_I have enough love for both of us..._

"It's not like that, Erik. It's not that I _don't_ love you... But I'm still confused about everything...

"About _him._" He replied calmly.

"No... I just mean that so much has happened. I need more time. I _want_ to be with you... does that not count for something? I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!"

She did love him, truly she did... But why couldn't she say it? _Was _it because she still loved Raoul as well... in some way or form? It was possible to love two people... wasn't it? How could she explain to him something she did not fully understand herself? Now she had hurt him... again.

"It's alright, Christine. If you say that it isn't _him, _then I believe you. Having you here is more than I could have hoped for. Let us rest." He smiled. "You'll have to forgive me though." He turned away from her and lay down. "I can only face this way due to my injuries."

"Yes... that's... fine." She said to the back of him. "I really do want to be with you, Erik. You know that I wouldn't say that unless I meant it..."

"Yes. Goodnight Christine." He responded curtly. "Good morning, I mean." Erik stared at the closed drapes on the far wall, filled with emotion; filled with pain.

"Good night..." Christine responded forlornly.

She did not love him... She did not. An unseen tear slid down his cheek and onto the soft pillow beneath.

* * *

><p>The man had seen him... he <em>was <em>alive. He _was. And _the Daae girl was with him. They would be very pleased to hear this. Very pleased indeed.

"Stop here, driver." He said, tapping on the window in front of him. He began to walk down a small street and after tipping his weathered hat to a particularly bereft looking baker who seemed to be opening business for the day, he took a turn down a small alley and knocked on a door.

"Who is it?" A gruff voice called.

"It's me... "He lowered his voice. "It's _Claude_."

The door opened just enough for Claude to slip through and was hastily shut again.

"It is freezing outside." He said, removing his jacket and hat. "I had better be getting paid compensation for discomfort." He walked into the main room where a group of men were sitting round a table with drinks in hand and anxious looks on their faces.

A particularly large, bearded one stood up. "Well? What is it? Did you find him?"

Claude sat down and with a smug smile upon his face, he spoke.

"He is alive and I know where he is."

The large man smiled.

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><p>Suspense!<p>

Please review :)


	15. Chapter 15

Hey guys! Thanks to all the new followers and favorites. Thank you to ALL the readers. It means so much. I really, honestly appreciate the reviews you post. I do not exaggerate when i say that when i receive one it changes my whole day. So PLEASE keep reviewing... even if it is one word, so i know that things aren't getting stale and that people are still interested. Let me know if you like where this is going... or even if you don't!

Also, if you are a new reader, be sure to check out my one shot; 'My Legacy'. Based on Kay's Erik.

Thanks!

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

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><p>When Erik awoke it was still day time. Drowsily, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. For a moment he had to remind himself of where he was; what had happened. He squinted as his eyes were met with the afternoon sun streaming through the drapes; he was not at all accustomed to waking up to sunlight. Once his eyes adjusted he found it somewhat soothing... he could get used to this. It was only when he moved to stretch that he was <em>really <em>reminded of where he was. His movement was restricted by the presence of Christine who had draped herself ever so casually across his chest and was still fast asleep. He smiled to himself and blushed as he recalled what had happened. As he looked down at her he could still feel her soft lips upon his, her delicate hands snaking up his shirt, touching his back... evoking pleasure from places that had only ever brought him pain. He could feel her body against his... This _was _real. It _had _all happened. She was there. Christine was there. Never in his wildest dreams had he conceived that someone like him would be allowed the honor; the mercy of fate and perhaps the complete luck of chance of waking up in such a way; waking up next to this woman or even in the same room as her. Waking up in such a state certainly seemed such a contrast to the eventful night that had passed. He had never felt more relaxed and had it not been for the severe pain lying like this had caused him, he may never have moved.

Carefully he removed her arm and grimacing at the pain such an action caused him, slid out from under her. He stood up and looked down at Christine, momentarily basking in this beautiful lapse in judgement that a higher power somewhere had surely made. He walked to the window and peered through the drapes, careful not to let too much light in lest it disturb Christine in her slumber. Letting her rest was the least he could do... He looked out into the garden and at the dirt road that had brought them here. It might simply have been the lighting or what the garden represented to him but it looked beautiful in the afternoon sun and part of him realized how much he had _missed_ the sunlight. This could be a new start for him... for _them. _This _would _be.

Erik bathed and dressed in his usual, black attire. As soon as he had washed away the remnants of the night before and replaced his mask and wig he felt like himself again. Upon looking in the mirror he finally saw a face which he recognized; hopefully Christine would too. Then he remembered what she had said... or not said. If she did not love him would she leave the first chance she got? With any luck she would wake up and remember all that had transpired... remember that she had chosen him. He stared at his reflection; a pastime he had always loathed. He needed to look the best he possibly could for Christine... and this was it. He examined his face; cuts and bruises on one side, a white mask on the other. This was as good as it was going to get...

As he sat down on the bed next to her to put his boots on he felt movement behind him. She was waking up...

Anxiously, he shot up and stood to face her.

"Erik..." She opened her eyes. "Is that you?"

"Yes... good morning... Afternoon!" He replied nervously.

"Afternoon..." She said apprehensively. He looked at her, questioningly.

"Sorry..." She sat up. "Just... seeing you in those clothes is... strange." He looked every bit The Phantom again...

"They are just clothes, Christine. But I think I understand your meaning." He moved to sit on the bed."May I?" He asked formally before doing so.

"Of course." Christine replied quietly. He seemed to have forgotten all that had transpired between them... they had become so close and now he seemed a different person. Perhaps this was what he was like; perhaps each time she saw him it would be like beginning again... breaking down each barrier over and over again...

Carefully he sat down next to her.

"You look nice." She said.

Erik shot her a nervous glance; a flicker of a grateful recognition in his eyes. She had noticed the effort he had put into his appearance and better yet, somehow she had woken up to find him attractive. 'Nice' was not loved but it was better than nothing... wasn't it? Perhaps not, if she did not love him, better to ignore the compliment completely; Better to shut it out.

He scoffed before speaking. "I tend to disagree with you on that but I thank you. It feels better to be... myself again."

Christine could not help but flinch slightly at his remark. What did he mean by 'myself'. Was this his true self? Aloof and cold? She couldn't believe that. She had spent several hours with who she believed to be the _real _Erik and this was not him. He was upset about something; he had to be. "How are you feeling?" She probed.

"A lot better. Still in pain but that is to be expected."

"Did you want me to... change your bandages?"

"No I... managed myself thank you."

"What's wrong? You seem different? Have I done something?"

"No child, you haven't done anything." He said, looking down. Of course she had... she had done the unspeakable; given him hope and taken it away.

Christine looked at him, trying to read what she could see of his face. "Is it about last night...?"

_Of course. _

"Partly." He replied tersely.

"Erik, if you don't tell me I cannot hope to help you. Every time we have a discussion you are not comfortable with you turn into a completely different person; you turn into The Phantom, like you are now. And it isn't fair to shut me out like this."

"_Fair_." He scoffed. What did she know of fair?

"Don't do that. What is wrong?"

He sighed; an act that usually came before a rant or rage of some kind but instead of finding his voice to be filled with anger it was filled with emotion.

"Do you wish to know?"

"Yes."

"Partly it is last night. Again, I put my heart on the line and you did not return my feelings. Of course I would not force them upon you like... last time... But you must forgive me if I seem _different _or if I seem like '_The Phantom._' It is the only way I know to deal with such things. When I woke up I was simply elated that I was able to wake next to you... but I worried that your feelings may have changed since we had last spoken... then I remembered what you had actually _said_ when we had last spoken."

"Erik, my feelings _haven't _changed!"

Erik stood up and walked to the window once more. "And what _are _those? You speak of feeling for me but you do not love me. You could not bring yourself to say the words when I so desperately needed to hear them." He stared out the window as he spoke; his voice grew softer with each word uttered from his lips.

Christine stood up and walked over to him. "Surely you know what I feel for you after... what we did."

Erik looked down at her, his mask glowing in the sunlight. "What we did was truly wonderful. But all It did was make me love you more than I already had; more than I thought possible. It was the happiest I have _ever _been..." He held her shoulders gently and looked into her eyes. "But I need to hear the words, Christine. I cannot fully commit myself; my heart to you again unless I hear them. I have already suffered that pain once and it almost broke me. I should be happy with what I have... I should be. Part of me is; each waking hour I spend with you I have to tell myself that it is real... that I _do _deserve happiness... but there is a part of me, Christine and it is a large part that wants everything." He held her tighter and his voice began to grow louder; the words were cascading out of his mouth as if he had been waiting an eternity to utter them. "And... I curse myself for wanting more than what is mine to have. I curse myself for having to ask you... to beg you for this thing when all my life I have simply taken what I needed. I curse myself for being so weak... I curse myself and yet I do not care. I do not care what it takes as long as I... have you." Erik released Christine and looked away once more. He took a deep breath. "But I _am _weak. I am weak and selfish when it comes to you; I have tasted happiness and must now have it all... Having said that, I know what I am and cannot knowingly blame you."

"For what?" Christine said absentmindedly; trying desperately to keep up with his erratic train of thought.

"For not saying the words... no one has ever said those words to me and I daresay that no one ever will."

She stroked his arm as he turned back toward the window and peered out pensively. "Not your mother?"

His eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of this mother. Again he scoffed, his mouth curled in a smirk. "No, Christine. Certainly not my mother." Erik had never mentioned his mother but this was probably not the best time to ask about her.

"Well, I will. I will say those words. I just need time. You can be as selfish as you like because I _am _yours to have. If you truly love me as much as you say... you will give me the time that I need." She slowly turned him around so that he was facing her and embraced him. Immediately he wrapped his arms around her and exhaled. "The worst conclusion isn't always the right one." She added.

"A habit, I'm afraid." He replied softly, his voice muffled by her curls.

"I know." She smiled, holding him tighter. Erik seemed to spiral in and out of these self- destructive moods... Slightly embarrassed at his display of emotion and in an attempt to change the subject he spoke again.

"Still think that I look strange?"

"I never said that!" She giggled into his chest. "I said that it was strange to see you in _these _clothes... Because they are _Phantom _clothes, remember?"

"Right." He smiled. "This is what I always wear. Would you have me wear those rags from last night?"

"Of course not. You do handsome."

"Ah... well t-thank you." He stammered nervously. "Forgive me; I am not accustomed to compliments... shall we eat something?"

"Yes!" She said pulling away from him "I am still famished."

* * *

><p>"You start eating, my dear." He said as Christine sat down at the table. "I need see to Caesar. I will return momentarily." He removed his jacket and cravat and set them down on the couch where he had collapsed, exhausted not hours before.<p>

"Alright... Oh, Erik?" She called to him as he opened the front door and stepped out.

"Yes?" He asked, stepping back inside as he rolled up his sleeves.

"Where is your stationery kept? I... need to contact Raoul." Erik looked at her, his deep set, blue eyes compelling her to explain her statement. "Just to let him know I am alright..." She added reassuringly. I should contact Madame Giry as well... and Meg. They must be so worried."

If this truly was going to work, he had to trust her. After a moment, he spoke. "Yes, you should write him." He said, holding onto the door frame with one hand. "It would not be right of you to let him worry." Christine smiled at him. "The stationery is upstairs in the room opposite the bedroom. Take what you need."

"As for Madame Giry and her daughter, I do not expect that we will have to wait long for a visit."

"What do you mean?"

"Madame Giry is aware of this house. No doubt she will be worried for you and this will be the first place she will check."

"Will she think that you took me...?"

"That is likely. She_ does_ like to think the best of me but she cares for you like a mother. I do not blame her for any aspersions she casts or accusations she makes; it is only natural." He looked at her a minute longer; thoughts of what she would write to the Vicomte briefly crossed his thoughts but he pushed them to the back of his mind.

"I cannot believe it has only been a night since everything happened. It feels like so much longer..." Christine added pensively.

"It does feel like longer. That isn't a bad thing though. Not for me..." He said, smiling before dropping his gaze to the floor. "I won't be long." He said and closed the door.

* * *

><p>Caesar was more than grateful for both the company and the food provided by his master. Erik thought it best to give Christine as much time as possible to do what she had to do. Perhaps the more time he gave her to think, the sooner she would be sure of her feelings; the sooner she would speak the words he longed to hear. Christine proclaimed to have chosen him but he could see it in her; the conflicting emotions. She <em>did <em>have feelings for the boy and be that friendship or otherwise that relationship was _still _there. He had to believe that if he gave her time, she would completely return his love and finally say the words. He _had _to.

After half an hour or so with Caesar, Erik decided to head back inside. He walked to the door and was about to turn the handle when something on the doorstep caught his eye. It was a piece of paper. Where had this come from? Had it been there all along? Who would be sending letters? Only Madame Giry knew of this house and she knew better than to send letters to him... Anxiously he opened the folded piece of paper and stared in sickening horror at the words haphazardly scribbled inside;

_Found you._


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for the delay! I couldn't help myself... i started another story in addition to this one. If you get a chance, check that one out too!

s/11035215/1/Nothing-But-a-Man

Thanks for all the on-going support!

Also, i need to say, apologies for what could be spelling errors... we Australians go by the English spelling, and sometimes not everything is picked up by this site or my eyes. They are usually quite tired because i neglect to wear my glasses... ANYWAY

Onward and upward! Or... Erikward!

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber!

* * *

><p><em>Found you.<em>

Erik's breath caught in his chest. His mind began to spiral into a panic. He had made many enemies over the years; narrowing it down would not be a simple task. Who was this? Did they know about Christine? Had they been watching them? How much time did he have? Why would someone send a threatening letter to _warn_ him?

He didn't know whether or not to show his discovery to Christine. She had proven quite mature throughout their ordeal but he did not want to cause her undue worry.

Deciding against it he stuffed the letter into his pocket and walked inside to find Christine reading a book in the living room. She was sitting there in complete ignorant bliss; reading a book as casually as could be, unaware of what the future could hold. She looked beautiful; the setting sun was falling warmly on her chocolate curls, illuminating her perfect skin in a way such that she resembled an angel... Erik could not help but smirk at the beautiful twist of irony. He had hoped for more time with her... Perhaps this was all he would be allowed... a few short moments of bliss; it was probably more than he deserved...

"How did the letter go...? Did you finish it?" He began absentmindedly.

"No." She replied. "I started but I couldn't find the right words, perhaps I will have more luck later on."

He nodded and began looking around and shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

_Later on... There may not be a later on..._

He had no idea how to tell Christine of his discovery... his gaze was fixed on a nearby vase; as if searching it for answers he could not find elsewhere. He looked back at her. She was _so _innocent... so dependent upon him. She had put her trust entirely in his hands. He had promised that he would keep her safe and he had already broken that promise once. He _had_ to tell her...

"You have a fine library in this house, Erik. Do you update it regularly?" She asked, looking up from her book.

"Christine I... I don't think we ought to stay here..." He blurted almost directly after she had spoken.

Christine's eyes widened. She placed her book down on her seat and stood up. "Why? What's happened?"

A knock sounded at the door.

Christine jumped.

Immediately Erik made a gesture for her to remain silent and walked over to her with feline stealth.

He had waited too late. Surely, this was it; this was the end of it all. The end of hope, the end of happiness, the end of _him. _He should have taken Christine and left as soon as he had seen the letter.

Christine did not speak but her eyes anxiously questioned him as he gestured for her to stand against the wall and out of sight. He looked down at her, just moments ago she had been sitting relaxedly with a book; a look of utter placation on her face that he would never know. Now she looked up at him with nothing but terror in her eyes. She was questioning him; searching his eyes for answers, _begging _for them. These were answers however that he did not have. He had been so contented, so beautifully distracted these past hours that he had failed to formulate a real plan. Perhaps he had thought they would have more time... either way it was terribly ignorant of him to think that it could be this easy. That he had suffered enough. That someone like him could simply _be _with the one he loved... that someone like him could simply _be _at all. Part of him knew better... the better part. Smiling at Christine, he bent down, closed his eyes and kissed her forehead.

_I am so sorry, Christine._

Another knock sounded.

Erik's heart pounded in his chest. Christine continued to search him for answers but he could not speak. What had he done? Pulling himself together he silently strode over to a small table on the other side of the room and removed a pistol that was hidden beneath it. Remaining silent would not do; those on the other side of the door was already aware of their presence.

"Christine..." He whispered in a voice barely audible. "I'm going to open the door..."

After looking down at the pistol in his hand she did not protest. She nodded, the look of utter fear and dependence never leaving her face.

The knock sounded a third time.

Erik clenched his jaw and shakily grasped the door handle. He was prepared to pull it open and fire at the person behind it when a familiar voice sounded.

"Erik? Are you there? Is Christine there? It is me... Antoinette..."

_Madame Giry...?_

He had had an inkling that she might pay him a visit, if only to check on Christine... It certainly was a relief but there were still doubts in his mind as to whether to open the door. Would she have come alone? Surely she would have; she was more aware of his habits and afflictions than anyone... But could he take that chance...?

"I am alone." She added, as if reading his thoughts through the door. "If you are there please open the door. I promise you that I am alone. I only wish to know of Christine's safety... and of yours..."

Before Erik knew what he was doing he had begun to speak. "How..." He cursed himself as soon as the first syllable had left his mouth. He had forgotten himself. He had always felt a strange sense of affection for this woman; at a time she had looked after him and vice versa. He had always been able to relax around her... as much as someone like him was capable of doing so... and it seemed as though she still had that effect on him. Reluctantly he to finish what he was saying.

"How... do I know that you are alone... how can I trust you?"

"You must." She said, her voice muffled through the thick, wooden door.

At the sound of Madame Giry's voice, Christine's face had lit up. Now, she was desperately pulling at his sleeve.

"Please, Erik. It will be alright." She begged. Erik was aware of the bond that had formed between the two of them and while he was aware of the risks involved, he could not resist Christine's plea.

"Is that you, Christine?" The voice called. "Are you alright?" Erik was aware of the implications in this statement. _Are you alright _was actually _has he hurt you... _Regardless, he did not have the heart to deny this of his Angel when he had put her through so much.

Slowly, he opened the door. He peered cautiously around it but before he could pull it open entirely, Christine had rushed through it and embraced the woman on the other side. Erik could not help but smile fondly at this.

"Thank goodness. You are alright." She breathed into Christine's curls. She looked at Erik who stood behind Christine, one hand on the door, the other by his side, still clutching the pistol. At first, her expression was accusatory but quickly changed to concern as her eyes were met with the cuts and bruises that were still fresh on his face.

He looked at her awkwardly. Yes, she was closer to him than any other living soul, but she had not seen him in such a state of vulnerability... not for many years. She had _never _seen him in such a state of domesticity and the longer she stared at him, the more he wished to leave the two women to their reunion...

Christine clung to Madame Giry and wept; an act that complied Erik's feeling of unease. Was he really that bad? Had it all been so terrible...? He had to tell himself otherwise. Perhaps Christine was simply in need of a mother figure. The last few hours had been a lot to take and she_ was _still quite young...

"It was so terrible..." Christine cried.

_Terrible..._

"I was so afraid."

_Afraid..._

"I thought they were going to kill him..." She wept.

She was crying for him?

_For _him?

"...You should both come inside, it isn't safe."

Christine slowly pulled away from Madame Giry and as they walked inside, her sobbing eased. Madame Giry walked to Erik and examined his face.

"Madame." He said, uncomfortably. He _was_ wearing his mask but he wasn't accustomed being under such close scrutiny.

"What have they done?" She asked rhetorically.

"It's fine." He replied awkwardly.

"I am glad that you are alright."

Much to Erik's surprise, she looked at him a second longer before pulling him into an embrace. Immediately, he winced at the harsh contact on his ribs. She gasped and pulled away, questioning him with her eyes.

"Fracture, I suspect." He said, nonchalantly.

"Those monsters." Her voice was filled with emotion. "I was so worried for you, Erik. I really was."

"You need not worry about me, Madame. You have done enough for me..." He said quietly. She flinched visibly at a memory she had not visited for some time.

"I have always worried for you." She turned to Christine who was watching them both with interest. "And for you, Christine."

Erik turned to Christine. He had momentarily forgotten about her presence. He could not hide the warm smile that spread across his lips when he was reminded. She smiled back at him. She was so beautiful, and against all odds she cared for him... He had to keep her safe. If nothing else, he _had _to do that. He needed to speak with Madame Giry alone. "Christine, would you please fetch me a jacket from upstairs?"

"Uh... alright. What about the one you left on the divan? Is that not to your liking?"

_Of course. Damn..._

"No it... doesn't fit quite right. You should fetch my robe for yourself too... this house can get quite cold at night."

"Oh. Alright." Christine acquiesced innocently.

As soon as she had left to climb the stairs, Madame Giry spoke.

"What is it, Erik? What is wrong?" Clearly she was aware of his plan to distract Christine...

Hastily, Erik pulled the note out of his pocket that he had discovered earlier. She took it and a look of horror washed over her as she read the words scribbled on the paper.

"Do you know who it is?" She asked.

"No... It could be anyone..."

"Erik, this is not good."

"I know that..."

"You have a lot of enemies."

"I _know _that!" He yelled. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry... I am... under a lot of pressure, as you can imagine."

"No matter. What did Christine say?"

"I... haven't showed her yet..."

"You what!? Erik, this concerns her too. You need to tell her."

* * *

><p>Christine walked up the stairs at Erik's request; it was an odd request, but he was an odd man. It was strange seeing Erik and Madame Giry in the same room. They had both been such strong influences to her growing up... even now, that it only made sense for them to be friends, if that is what they were. Moreover it was strange to see Erik interacting so comfortably with someone. How long had they known each other? How exactly did they meet? They seemed to share secrets, exchange glances that she could not quite connect to...<p>

She had hoped to see Meg as well... but it probably wasn't safe. Seeing Madame Giry was enough... She had not realized how much she had missed her until this night. Truthfully, she had not thought about anyone except Erik and Raoul since they had left the Opera. She cursed her selfishness... Surely she could have spared a thought for Madame Giry's safety when she had ceaselessly worried for _hers_.

When she reached the bedroom and opened Erik's wardrobe. Again, she was faced with multiple pairs of trousers, shirts and jackets. Indulging herself in her stolen time alone she pulled one of his many shirts off the hanger and examined it. She held the fabric between her fingers... It was thick... probably expensive. It was real... so real. _He _was so real to her now and the thought delighted her. Months ago he had been a mere specter... an illusion she had convinced herself lived only in her mind... now he was _real, _he was Erik and she was selecting clothes for him as if he were a normal man. He _was _a normal man...

She smiled and and selected another jacket for him at random. They all looked identical to her... how could the one down stairs have been any different? Shrugging her shoulders she pulled it off the hanger and scooped his robe up off the floor for herself. Christine left the bedroom and turned to look at it before closing the door. She smiled to herself.

_Their _bedroom.

She closed the door and continued down stairs.

* * *

><p>"When did you find this?"<p>

"Just before you arrived."

Madame Giry sighed and began pacing.

"Do you have _any _idea at all who it could be?"

Erik was looking down at the floor, rubbing his lip irritably. He looked at her briefly and shook his head.

"You don't think..."

"What?" He looked up again.

"The... gypsies?"

"No! Of course not." He dismissed her immediately, storming across the room to peer through the drapes. The sun had almost set, it was now dusk; usually his favorite time. Tonight though, it did nothing but fill him with dread. "How could they possibly find me? After all this time? Impossible."

"Don't dismiss anything, Erik. You don't know..."

"Don't know what?" Christine had returned. She handed Erik's jacket to him and draped his cloak around her shoulders. "Don't know what?" She repeated.

Erik looked at Madame Giry who handed the note back to him and gestured to Christine.

"What's that?" She asked, looking at the note in his hand.

Erik sighed and handed it to her. "I found this just before Madame Giry arrived. I do not know where it's from or who it could be..."

Christine's eyes filled with fear once more as she read the note. She looked up.

"I didn't know whether to show it to you or not... We need to leave, Christine."

"I am so sorry." He said; a look of defeat upon his face.

Before anyone could utter another word, a sound reached their ears; a sound which filled them with dread. A loud knock sounded at the door followed by a harsh command;

"_Open up!_"


	17. Chapter 17

Hey guys. Thank you so much for the reviews and follows and faves etc! I know i say this a lot and that it's probably getting boring but it really makes my day when i get an email telling me that someone likes my writing! I mean... its not as if i invented the characters or anything... but still! Many thanks.

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

Onward!

* * *

><p>Erik looked at Christine once more, a sad smile upon his face. It was too late. They had taken too long...<p>

"_Open up!"_ The voice sounded again. "_It is the Police!"_

The Police! The Gendarmerie!

Amid all the confusion and chaos he had almost completely forgotten about the Police. Perhaps this was because subconsciously he had believed them to be the smaller threat. This would at least mean that they would have more time to deal with the other problem; potentially, the larger problem. He had evaded The Police for years but this note and whoever had sent it was still shrouded in mystery... he did not like that. He _had _evaded The Police for years... but that was when he had had somewhere to hide; a sanctuary per se. He knew very well that no one would dare seek him out in the cellars of the Opera... but here? This was just a house. He had not had the means, nor had he the time to convert it into a veritable safeguarded fortress as he had with the Opera. He was a self-proclaimed magician, yes, but even a man with Erik's skill set could not turn a house into something it was not in a matter of seconds.

He looked to Madame Giry; alarm clearly evident on his face. She was their only hope as neither Erik nor Christine could afford to be seen by the Police if they wished to remain where they were.

"Go." She said quietly, as if reading his thoughts. "Both of you go. Go and hide."

"Thank you Madame." He said, his eyes speaking more than his words ever could. Erik took Christine by the hand immediately and rushed up the stairs, as far away from the unwelcome guests as he could get.

"Where are we going to hide?" She whispered.

Panic struck him when the realization dawned on him. He didn't know. Once more he was stranded without the faintest inkling of a plan.

"I... I..." Erik attempted to reply as they reached the top of the stairs. He couldn't think fast enough for as soon as they had reached the top floor, Madame Giry opened the front door. Erik pulled Christine out of sight just in time for the Gendarmerie entered the small house mere seconds later. He held her tightly to him and she held onto him as if there was nothing else, as if they were back in that cavern under the Opera...

She tugged at his jacket to get his attention.

_What do we do? _She mouthed desperately.

"Good evening Madame." A loud voice from downstairs echoed up through the now darkened stairwell to reach their ears.

"Good evening." Madame Giry replied. "Please, come in." Erik knew very well that they had already entered the house and that she was simply attempting to update him on the situation.

"...Yes." The gendarme was clearly beguiled at her offer when he and his men were already inside the house.

"What can I do for you?" She asked purposefully.

"My name is Inspector Gilles, Madame..."

"Madame Giry."

"Do you live here, Madame? Is this your house?"

"This... is my house, yes. What can I do for you?" She repeated.

"Oh, just routine I assure you. We are searching for someone. Have you heard about the Opera? What happened there last night?"

"...No... I very rarely visit the Opera and I haven't been to fetch the paper in a few days... What happened?"

* * *

><p>For a brief moment, Erik doubted the loyalty of Madame Giry. Of course, she cared for Christine dearly but there had been times over the years when he had doubted his own relationship with the woman.<p>

As the conversation bore on downstairs, Erik he began to doubt the loyalty of Madame Giry. She cared for Christine dearly but was that enough?

_She has always safeguarded your secret. _

Erik began to doubt _himself. _She had always been good to him but there were times over the years when he may have been so far removed from the goings on at the Opera to really notice. And surely, anyone's resolve could waver when and if they were threatened by the Police...

He began to reason with himself. She would never betray him, especially not when Christine was at stake. Surely he was just being paranoid because he had so much to lose. His mind was running wild with macabre possibilities that would never come to fruition. She would not betray him. Of course she wouldn't.

* * *

><p>"There was an incident." The conversation continued downstairs.<p>

"An incident? What kind of an incident?"

"Well... A man killed a lot of people last night. The man we are searching for... He allegedly dropped a chandelier in the auditorium which set the whole building ablaze. It seems far fetched, I know. No one could believe it... No one saw it coming... It was said that he had kidnapped the lead soprano too..."

"Really! How awful." Madame Giry feigned disbelief. "Do you know what he looked like?"

"Well you see; that is the easy part. He is deformed; one side of his face is complete completely distorted. It's quite hard to miss."

"Yes." Madame Giry sat down on a nearby chair, apparently quite emotional about the whole thing. "Awful. Just awful... But, how can I be of assistance?"

"We were just checking nearby houses for sightings. Any smart man would have left the city by now but you never know with these people..." He walked towards her.

"Haven't seen anyone... strange lately, have you?"

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Christine was getting increasingly panicked by the second. She kept pulling at Erik's clothing, attempting to get his attention but to no avail. He was frozen with fear. Not necessarily fear of the Gendarmerie but fear of what they could take away from him. For once, he had something to lose... and it was <em>everything.<em> Usually, he was quick to action and he thrived under pressure such as this but tonight, he couldn't seem to think clearly. His thoughts had seized up and all he could think about was losing Christine. _Losing _her after everything they had gone through to get here.

One particularly jarring pull by Christine seemed to set his thoughts back on track. He looked down at her, questioningly. After finally getting his attention she began gesticulating rather angrily towards a cupboard at the end of the hall. It was only a broom cupboard, but it would have to do. They would _have _to fit. They would _have _to make no noise. They would _have _to stay hidden. This _had _to work. It had to...

As quietly as they could they walked towards it. Then, praying to whichever all-powerful entity was listening that the door to the cupboard wouldn't squeak; Erik turned the handle and began pulling it open. Everything depended upon this door; His whole life, Christine, his future.

With the utmost care he pulled the door open, wondering whether each second would be his last with her. He gestured for Christine to slip inside before he followed. With the same amount of precision, he pulled the door closed again. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. They were now in complete darkness. None of the candles or lamps had been lit upstairs and none of the light from downstairs would reach as far as the cupboard.

Silence; all that could be heard was their breathing, heavy but controlled for fear of being heard, and the muted conversation downstairs. They waited...

* * *

><p>"Strange...? Why, no Inspector. I don't believe I have seen anyone at all in the past few days."<p>

"I see..." He mused, walking to the unlit fireplace and pulling at his waxed mustache as he went. "You weren't thinking of going anywhere at this late hour, were you Madame?"

"...No. Why do you ask Monsieur?"

"Well... That horse outside." He turned back to Madame Giry and pointed to the window. "He is saddled... do you always leave your horses saddled?" She inwardly cringed at his question.

"No... I... Just got home." She answered, thinking quickly. Foolishly she had left her horse out in the open when she had arrived.

"Ah. Do you think it wise to leave your horse saddled and out in the open?"

"No... I... Of course not. I will see to him as soon as you leave, Inspector."

Inspector Gilles walked closer to Madame Giry, his boots on the hardwood floor; the only sound as he closed the gap between them.

"Madame, _is _this your house?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, of course." she replied, innocently. Inspector Gilles carefully studied her face for a moment.

"Check the house." He said, emotionless.

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Christine remained close to Erik.<p>

"I'm scared." She whispered.

"Don't be, Môn ange. They are the Police. If they find us, they will only take _me_ away."

"That's what I'm afraid of." She said. Being careful not to disturb any of the objects surrounding her in the broom cupboard she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Why can't the world just let us be? Why can't we just live?" She began to cry into his chest.

"I don't know." He replied softly, pulling her close. If only she knew how many times he had asked the same question. He had asked it in his mind, he had shouted it to the heavens... he had prayed and begged to be like everyone else; just to be left alone. But he knew that it could never be.

"Shh. It will be alright." He soothed, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Then, she whispered the words he thought that he would never hear.

"I love you..."

Erik's breath caught in his chest and it felt as though his heart had stopped.

"Christine, I..." He stopped speaking he heard footsteps approaching the stairs.

* * *

><p>Madame Giry did her best to remain calm at his words.<p>

"Oh yes, please, check the house if you wish." She said, again warning Erik who no doubt waited upstairs with bated breath.

They began to search the first floor first. Madame Giry realized then that if she did not do something, he would be found. She continued with her fabrication; hoping that something she said would pique the Inspector's interest.

"My husband Jules... he died. This was his house. Not mine... I shouldn't call it mine. Although I suppose that it is now, isn't it?"

"Jules, you say? Jules Giry?" Inspector Gilles spun around. Could it have worked?

"...Yes."

"Jules Giry of Bourneville?" His eyes widened.

"I... We used to live there, yes. A long time ago."

"My word, Madame. My father used to speak of Jules Giry! Your husband was a mason, was he not?"

"Yes..."

"Yes! Then he must have been the very same. He and my father were good friends many years ago. On more than one occasion during my childhood I had been regaled with tales consisting of 'Jules and I...'" He laughed and a nostalgic glaze misted over his eyes. "My father spoke very highly of him."

"Oui." Madame Giry glanced at the stairs anxiously and spoke absentmindedly. "He was a good man." By now one of the Inspector's men was climbing the stairs and she was beginning to wonder how this conversation would actually help her.

* * *

><p>Erik could not believe the impossibly bad timing of the situation. Christine had declared her feelings for him. She had <em>finally <em>said the words and in a few moments it could all be taken away from him. Perhaps that had been the only reason she had said the words...? No matter. He did not care. She had said them! She had said them and he wanted nothing more than to respond; to tell her that he had loved her for longer than she knew! That he loved her with every fiber of his being. That he used to wake in the middle of the night, in physical pain at the thought of never being with her; never having her as his own! He wanted to say all these things, he wanted to shout them from the roof top, he wanted to whisper them intimately; lovingly into her ear but he could do none of those things. He had to remain absolutely still as he heard footsteps approaching and then climbing the stair well to the second floor...

All he could do to tell her of his feelings was hold her. He held her tight; tighter than he ever had and to his surprise she returned the embrace with mirrored intensity. All he could do was wait; wait for her to be taken from him or for a miracle to occur. In his experience miracles either did not exist... or stayed well away from him.

* * *

><p>Madame Giry watched the Inspector's man as he climbed the stairs. It was only a matter of time before he would reach the top floor. Every step he took worked to seal the fate of Erik. He did not deserve this. He had done many bad things in his life but she had spent enough time with him to know that at his core he was a bad person... This was his chance to turn his life around, to redeem himself, to find happiness at last. Each step the man took was a nail in his coffin. He wondered how much longer he would have; how much longer <em>they <em>would have.

The man had almost reached the top when much to her shock and relief, Inspector Gilles called out. "Enough, men! You can come back!" She looked at him, still attempting to retain her composure.

"But we haven't searched everywhere yet, Inspector!" A small voice called from the kitchen area.

"Enough, I said!" He looked to Madame Giry. "I don't believe that you would hide anything from us, Madame. Your Jules was an honorable man. God rest his soul." Inspector Gilles crossed himself at these words.

"Thank you." She said quietly, completely overwhelmed by the complete and utter share of luck she had somehow been allotted tonight.

"Sorry to have bothered you, Madame. Please contact us if you do happen to see anything." He turned towards the door. "Come on men."

"No trouble at all. I will be sure to let you know. I do hope that you find him." She said, feigning concern as she opened the door for the Gendarmerie.

"Oh, and be sure to lock this tonight." Inspector Gilles tapped on the door as he walked outside. "A night like tonight certainly calls for extra security measures with a killer like that on the loose."

"I will. Thank you, Inspector." She smiled with what energy she had left. "Goodnight!"

"Bonsoir, Madame. Do make sure to see to that horse!"

"Yes, I will. Bonsoir!"

As soon as they had turned away, she closed the door and locked it. She found that she could not stand and collapsed against the door. Part of her could not fathom what had just happened. How had she been graced with such luck? She had been sure that Erik was doomed... and yet...

Slowly she rose and walked upstairs. She opened the door to the broom cupboard to find Christine and Erik in a tight embrace.

"They are gone." She said, exhausted.


	18. Chapter 18

Wow. Ok, did a lot of writing tonight. Its 2am... so there may be some errors but i quite like this chapter :) I really like writing dialogue for some reason.

As usual, many thanks for the support! 3

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber.

* * *

><p>"Thank you, Madame." Erik said, leading Christine out of the cupboard before stepping out himself. "That was very quick thinking indeed but you should not have risked yourself for me."<p>

"It was no trouble..." She said, still shaken up. She turned to Erik. "I have done it before and I daresay that I shall have to do it again."

Erik nodded at her stoically and even shot her what she thought could have been a small smile. Christine looked at them both; again they both seemed to share something; perhaps lost in a memory of some kind...

"Come, we must discuss this letter you received." She said.

They sat around the small, rounded dining table; each of them staring thoughtfully at the note which lay in the center.

"I really think that we should just leave now." Christine began.

"We can't rush our actions, Christine." Erik said calmly. "We haven't a clue who these people are or what they want."

"I have at least one clue what they want; _you! _As long as we know that much, it isn't safe to be here. Erik, each time something happens I'm _so _afraid that I will lose you... I feel like it's only a matter of time before..."

"We don't know for sure, Christine. They already know we are here. I think we should wait and plan our..."

"Do you remember what happened last time we _waited,_ Erik? Or isn't the pain reminder enough? You could have been _killed..._" She folded her arms on the table and began to weep helplessly. Erik placed a consoling hand on her back. She was right. Last time they had waited and it had ended badly.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I hate that I'm doing this to you..."

"Erik." Madame Giry began. "What... _happened _last night?"

He looked at her. "We... ran into some people who were... not enthused, so to speak by my actions."

"Not enthused?" Christine lifted her head. "It was a mob, maman! It was horrible. You should _see _his back!"

Madame Giry looked at Christine. She had just called her mother, something she hadn't done in quite some time. Clearly she was distressed; distressed for Erik... She had no idea what had transpired since she had last seen them both but something had most definitely changed between them...

"Erik. What happened? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Nothing that won't heal."

"Fine?! Show her, Erik!"

"What?" He asked in astonishment.

"Its fine, Christine." Madame Giry said calmly.

"Show her!" She said, pulling at his jacket.

"No I'm not going to _show _her?" He couldn't believe that she was suggesting this.

"Its fine, Christine, I have seen it."

"What? How could you..."

"I have seen it before."

"Madame, no." Erik said.

_Surely she would not..._

"Erik, she should know."

"Know what?" Christine asked, glancing between both of them. "What should I know?"

"How Erik and I met."

_She is!_

"No, Madame!" He commanded.

"Yes, tell me."

"No, I can't." He stood up and turned around; perhaps attempting to shut them out by physically turning away from them.

"Why not?"

"Because, I cannot Christine." He looked at Madame Giry. "You see what you have initiated?" His voice was now turning cold; dripping with the cynicism and venom he usually reserved for those at the Opera; those who crossed him.

"Just tell her, Erik!" Now Madame Giry's voice was raised too despite the presence of the Opera Ghost who had now fully returned.

"_NO! I will not!" _He shouted, silencing both Christine and her mother figure mid sentence. He inhaled steeply and turned to face them both. "I will not _just tell her_!" His face screwed up in indignation as he continued.

"I will divulge the private details of my life when I am good and ready and not a moment before! Who are _you_ to tell me what I should, shouldn't discuss... those are _my _memories. _MINE!" _He leaned on the back of his chair for support, seemingly defeated by the power of what he was discussing._ "My_ pain... _my _suffering..."

"...Erik." Christine began, touching his hand.

He looked down at her hand but did not pull away. He exhaled unevenly before speaking again.

"No. I... I will _not _share them until I am ready. Until _I _am ready..." His voice was deep with emotion. "Surely _that _is in my power..."

"It's alright, Erik." Christine soothed, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I just _want _to know about you. That's all... You don't have to tell me _anything _you don't want to tell me."

He shook his head slowly and chuckled cynically.

"It isn't that, Christine. It's... something which isn't easy to discuss... to re-live." Yes, it was that... but it was also the _fear _of _telling_ Christine. What would she think of him once she knew that he was kept in a _cage _as a boy? Branded an animal; a monster. Tortured and degraded daily for entertainment? It wasn't something he was willing to share just yet. Starting to feel claustrophobic just _thinking _about that cage he pulled out his cravat and threw it haphazardly on the table.

"Just tell me, those old scars that I saw on your back... Did they have anything to do with it?"

Erik flinched.

"Yes." He said.

"I am so, very sorry." Madame Giry began. "You are right. It is on your terms... Now come, sit down and let us discuss a plan."

It was slightly embarrassing to simply sit back down at the table after his performance but a plan was more important than his pride. Christine was more important that anything. Removing his jacket and placing it on the back of the chair he sat down. He was irritated and worked up and he wanted nothing more than to remove his mask, but he could not.

"Now, I think that Christine is right." Madame Giry began. "You should both leave as soon as possible."

"Yes. We will. However... at the present time, and as I have already said, they already know that we are here. If we left right away... they could be waiting right outside and we would be none the wiser. I think that we should wait until the morning."

"The morning?! Erik, anything could happen by then!"

"But I don't think that it will. Why would they warn me with a note? If they wanted to take us by surprise, they wouldn't have sent this." He said, picking up the note on the table.

"I don't know but we _can't _just wait here! I mean...say that we _do _wait, and that we manage to escape _whoever_ this is... where are we to go?"

"I... hadn't planned that far ahead..."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm doing my best, Christine."

Truthfully, he had planned their destination. He_ had_ a contingency plan but it was a last resort; his childhood home... Of course he would only tell Christine when she directly asked about it and he would not mention the history of the house unless he absolutely had to.

"Christine, be sympathetic."

"No, it's alright Madame. I promised Christine that I would take care of her. She has every right in questioning me."

"I'm not..." Christine sighed. "I'm not questioning you. I'm just so afraid."

"It's alright, Christine." He smiled at her; a strange sight in combination with his mask...

"I have somewhat of a plan... Not one of my brilliant ideas but I believe that it will suffice." He turned to Madame Giry. "It involves you, Madame."

She smiled. "I thought that it might. What is it?"

"It's as simple as misleading them... They overhear us planning to depart at a certain time... we simply depart before that."

"How will we communicate that?" She asked.

"Well... this is where I need your help. Given the circumstances I would say that it is too dangerous for you to travel out after dark, you could sleep on the divan, the couch or take the bed upstairs... You would leave tomorrow morning. Once you are outside you will clearly state that you are going to return in the evening. Christine and I will leave directly."

"That could work." She said. "I will do whatever you need, of course."

Erik smiled gratefully.

"We will need to saddle Caesar up in advance then, will we not?" asked Christine.

"Yes..." He pondered for a moment before speaking. "Perhaps in the morning, we too could announce something. We could actually mention that we are preparing him for later, when Madame Giry would supposedly arrive."

"Yes." She nodded. "That will work."

"We will need to pack any food we can carry... It could be a few days before we reach any sort of sanctuary." It _was _going to be a few days. Erik's childhood home was in a small town near Rouen and was a few days ride away from Paris.

"But Erik, how will you ride? You found it quite painful last time..."

"I do not have a choice, I'm afraid."

* * *

><p>After eating a small dinner, they began to prepare for the day ahead. Erik had packed clothing, medical supplies and food for the journey. He had no idea what they would encounter or what they would need but it would have to be enough; He didn't want to weigh Caesar down too much as he would already be carrying two people.<p>

"You will be sharing the bed with Christine and I will not hear another word of it." Erik smiled.

Madame Giry sighed.

"This is your house, Monsieur."

"It does not matter. You are our guest. Take the bed. It is better that I stay downstairs anyway. I am a light sleeper and have keen hearing. I will be the first to know if anything happens."

"Alright then." She said as she began walking up the stairs.

"As I have told Christine... I have ladies clothing in the wardrobe in the bedroom but no nightwear... feel free to wear anything that feels comfortable."

"I will be there shortly, Madame." Christine called from the kitchen. She walked out into the living area to find Erik in the middle of the arduous process of blowing out all of the lit candles in the room.

She walked up to him as he was approaching the final candle and gently wrapped her arms around him from behind. She felt him immediately exhale and relax to her touch.

He leaned back into her and placed his hands over hers.

"How is the pain?" She asked quietly.

"It's Lessening."

"I cannot wait for the day when you are pain free so that I can properly embrace you."

He smiled.

"This is more than I had ever hoped for." Erik turned around to face her. "I actually keep thinking that I should have less pain than I do. Then I remember that it _has_ only been two days."

"Yes." She said. "It's quite strange, time."

"I had hoped for more_ time_ with you."

"You will have... Don't talk like that, you're scaring me." She said, embracing him once more.

"I can't apologize enough, Christine. You deserve so much more than this... and I want to give it to you. Instead all there is... drama, fear. This isn't what I wanted for you."

"Stop that. I told you that I'm happy, didn't I?" She stroked his face gently before reaching up to place a small kiss on his lips.

"Christine..." He began, slightly breathless from such an unprecedented act of intimacy. He was convinced that they would always be like this to him; unexpected. "Did you mean what you said before? When we were hiding? It's been eating at me since it happened... it has been eating at for as long as I can remember. I need to know."

"Yes." She said decidedly. "Yes I meant it." Again, she leaned in and placed a small kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth.

_Yes. YES!_

_She meant it!_

_She said it!_

_Love!_

_Love..._

For the first time in his life, he was _loved _and it was a glorious feeling. If nothing else, he had that.

"Can I remove this?" She asked, gently touching his mask with her other hand. Immediately his hand snapped up to where hers lay. "Please? It's quite dark... If that's what you worry about."

"I... don't know, Christine." He said, stepping back slightly.

"I can't kiss you with your mask on." She said

After a moment of thought he acceded. He wanted nothing more than to experience that glorious feeling again and if that was the only way it could be achieved, so be it... There was always a possibility that this would be their last. Did it really matter if she saw him?

Reaching up once more she moved in to kiss him. He welcomed her mouth gratefully and slowly deepened the kiss. Gently she pushed him backward until he was met with a wall. Dropping his mask and wig carelessly on the ground he held her.

_What did it matter?_

_What did anything matter?_

_She loved him!_

He wouldn't let things go as far as they did last time. He could not afford to lose control; not now... not tonight. He could not afford to lose himself for a moment. Regretfully he broke the kiss.

"I love you..." He breathed against her cheek before burying his face in her neck.

"I love you too..." She repeated for the first time. Only after saying it aloud did she truly realize how _much _she actually felt for him.

She could _not _lose him.

_She could not._

* * *

><p>Claude had followed them until they had left Paris. He had reported his findings, as instructed and had led the rest of his men to where he had last seen them. The route they had taken only led to a handful of houses and finding them afterwards had not been a difficult task at all. Surely the Phantom of the Opera should have been harder to track down...?<p>

"Let's do it now!" One of the men whispered to another.

"No, we wait. _His _orders."

"_Will_ you two be silent?" Claude whispered; pulling his jacket tightly around him as a particularly icy wind blew through him. "What do you think _He _would say if it was all ruined because they heard the two of _you?" _The two men fell silent. "It is the same for all of you! Silence!"

Darkness surrounded them as they waited.

Waited for the man who had so wronged them those many years ago...

Waited for Erik...

Waited for The Devil's Child...


	19. Chapter 19

So, yes. This took a little longer to write only because i wasnt sure where i wanted to go with some of the plot elements. That and uni...

Anyway, on with the show!

Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Weber

* * *

><p>When Christine finally entered the room to ready for bed, one candle was still lit and Madame Giry was still awake.<p>

"Why are you not asleep?" She asked, sitting down on the bed and attempting to untie her corset.

"I am overcome with worry child. Why else...? Here, let me do it." She said, assisting Christine in her struggle.

"Thank you." She smiled. "You must have a lot of questions?"

"Yes. I do. Questions about how you got away, about how you got here. About what happened after you disappeared below that stage... I was so worried, Christine."

"You know him though... you know Erik. Surely you did not worry about my safety around him?"

She shrugged her shoulders in a sign of dubious exasperation.

"In all the years I had known him, never had I seen him so desperate... I had known when he had revealed himself to you and as the months went on afterwards I heard from him less and less. I knew how much he loved you... how desperately he wanted you, _needed _you... only you could have possessed him to stand on that stage; to show himself in front of all those people. Can you imagine? A recluse like him? Surely then you knew of his affections... I saw it all unravel before his very eyes, all his hopes... I saw him shatter before your very gaze that night; all that he was- gone. Then I saw something change in him... almost as if something cracked; broke. The Erik I had known was gone in an instant and I was worried. You must understand Christine that you were his one last tie to the outside world... the one last redeeming aspect of the world he otherwise despised. And you denied him... truthfully; I did not know what he would do. I did not _know _this person he became."

"I hate it. I hate myself for what I did to him."

"So then, am I to assume that you have made your choice?"

"Yes! Yes, I have. I... chose Raoul but... then I couldn't leave him the way he was. I went back to see him and things escalated from there. Now, I can't imagine how I would feel if I hadn't gone back. Things would be very different for me..."

"Do you regret your choice?"

"No. No, I don't. What I meant was... how I would feel without him. I can't imagine it."

Madame Giry smiled.

"Were you worried when you came to the house? Were you worried that he had harmed me...?"

"I don't know what I thought. I was worried for _both_ of you. I didn't know what to expect or what state I would find him in if I found him at all."

"Yes, I had the very same worries upon returning to find him. I'm so very glad that I did. But it seems strange, doesn't it? _Meeting_ someone in such a way?"

Again she shrugged.

"People meet many different ways. I had always hoped for something between you two. Of course, I wanted you to make a choice true to your heart but deep down I had always hoped for your happiness to lie with Erik."

Christine changed and lay down on the bed.

"What of the Vicomte, Christine?" asked Madame Giry curiously.

"I told him that I would send him a letter when it was safe... I got half way through it but didn't quite know what to say. And now I don't know _when _ill be able to finish it."

"I could pass on a message if you'd like?"

"No... thank you but everything I say should be by my own hand. He deserves that much. "

"Yes, well... We should try to sleep." She said, blowing out the candle and leaving them in darkness save for the sliver of moonlight seeping through the open drapes.

"How can I possibly sleep when I know that they are out there?"

"I don't know. You must try, though."

* * *

><p>Downstairs, Erik did not even attempt sleep; not because the sofa was ill-fitted to someone of his stature... it <em>was <em>far too small, it was more due to all that lay on his mind. Also the sense of duty he felt... How could he possibly sleep when the only two people in the world that showed him any sort of kindness or compassion slept under his roof? Anything could happen and he had to remain prepared and alert.

His thoughts raced as he lay back on the sofa. Had he made the right decision in waiting? Last time it had almost cost them their lives. He didn't have a choice... if they had tried to escape soon after receiving the note they would have been bested by whoever the sender was. Erik never liked to do what was expected of him...

Running his hand through his hair irritably he sat up. Would they even make it outside? If they did, would they get away? What were the chances of them actually outrunning them? He had no idea. He hadn't the faintest clue who these people were... Even if they managed to escape, what were the chances of a normal life? Trouble followed Erik and things did not tend to sort themselves out unless he _sorted _them out...

He wondered when it would end; when they would be left in peace. Perhaps they never would? That was why he had retreated beneath the opera to begin with... because no matter where he went he could not find refuge from the world and its' unwarranted hate above ground. But that was no longer an option. He loved Christine more than anything and now he had damned her to suffer his fate.

Soon the sun began to rise. Save for the sunrise Erik had shared with Christine he had always despised the sight of it. Seeing it rise left a stale taste in his mouth and reminded him that it was time to descend back underground. He would vacate the world so that _they _could inhabit it, so that _they _could go about their business without being vexed by the presence of something such as him. Each time the sun rose he was reminded of who he was. After a while he stopped venturing above ground at all. It was filled with nothing but painful reminders of why he could _never _belong... never walk among the living...

Standing up and stretching he walked up the stairs and knocked on the bedroom door.

"Christine, Madame. We should prepare..." He said softly.

The door opened to reveal Christine in one of his shirts once more. This time he was too tired to protest her appearance. She walked out and closed the door behind her, a bashful smile on her face.

"How did you sleep?" He asked through a failed attempt at suppressing a yawn. In spite of all his efforts, he _was_ human and he needed sleep.

"Not well... the same for you I think?" She smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"No, not very well." He returned her embrace. "Is Madame Giry awake?"

"Yes. She is dressing, I believe."

"Good. You two dress... and fully prepare. We should leave shortly after Madame Giry does and we will only get one chance."

* * *

><p>"Have you packed warm clothes, Christine? Like I said, it is a few days travel to... to where I plan to get to. We will have to sleep outside at some point..." Erik looked at her apprehensively, as if speaking these last words would change her mind entirely.<p>

"Yes. Whatever you need me to do, I will do." She slipped her hand into his.

He smiled at her warmly before turning to Madame Giry.

"Are you ready, Madame?"

"Wait!" Christine said abruptly, releasing his hand. "I need to get something from upstairs."

She returned with a small piece of paper and as soon as Erik saw it he knew what it was; her letter, her letter to Raoul. He stared at it, his eyes narrowing with envy as Christine folded it and placed it in a small bag she was holding.

"What did you forget?" Erik asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh..." She looked up guiltily. "Just... something for later."

He nodded suspiciously. Why was she hiding it from him?

"Alright... I am ready. What is the exact plan, Erik? Are we going to saddle Caesar and come back inside? Or are we leaving straight away...?"

"Immediately after preparing Caesar. We will pretend that we are going back inside... hopefully it will fool them into dropping their guard. And... then we mount him as quickly as possible and escape."

"There is so much that could go wrong..."

"I know. But we don't have any other option..."

She took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm ready."

"Madame?"

"Yes."

"Again, I thank you." He said. "You have truly saved us... saved me... yet again."

"Good luck." She said walking up to where Erik stood and embracing him. He smiled awkwardly.

"Take care of one another." She embraced Christine who actually returned it, unlike her companion.

"I will miss you." Christine whispered.

Madame Giry looked at her adoptive daughter; tears in her eyes.

"Alright, it is time." She said, sniffing and turning around before emotion got the better of her. She walked toward the door purposefully and turned the handle.

Erik looked at Madame Giry. He could see the emotion flooding through her as she turned back to look at him but he knew that she would not betray herself once she opened the door. She would not betray him.

She took a deep breath and opened the door; the warm light of the rising sun flooded the small room but it was anything but comforting. She looked back once more and in an instant her face had changed. The expression on face was calm, stern and almost calculating. She was now wearing a mask and she wore it well...

"Alright." She said, walking outside; the volume of her voice raised slightly. "I will be back in the afternoon and we shall leave then."

Erik took a deep breath and stepped outside. Every sense, every instinct was warning against it but he _had_ to make this believable... He waved as she walked towards her horse.

"Yes. Thank you for visiting, Madame. We shall see you this afternoon." He looked behind him to see Christine shrinking behind the door frame. He discreetly gestured for her to join him.

_Christine. _He mouthed.

"I'm scared..." She whispered.

_You must._

Slowly, Christine walked towards his outstretched hand just as she had done so many times. As soon as she had reached it she clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her anchored in this terrifying moment. She looked up just in time to see Madame Giry riding away and it took all she had not to burst into tears in front of all her spectators...

Sensing her anguish, Erik squeezed her hand reassuringly. All he wanted to do was to kiss her, to hold her, to tell her that he would keep her safe at _all _costs... but he could not. Not yet.

"Come, Christine. Let us prepare Caesar for this afternoon... then we can have something to eat?" That was it. That was all he could do and those listening would either believe it or they wouldn't. They walked back inside and the moment the door was closed Christine clung to Erik and wept.

"I'm so scared..." She cried.

"I know." He soothed, holding her tightly. He placed a small, tender kiss on her forehead. She looked up at him and he could not help but smile. Her face was tear-stained and her expression read that of angst but all it did was remind him of _why _she looked like that. She had chosen him. In spite of everything they had gone through so far, she had stayed. "I love you." He whispered, wiping the tears from her face. "... But we need to go."

Picking up the majority of what he had packed for them he walked towards the back door.

"Come." He said, smiling warmly.

"I... don't think I can do this, Erik."

"You can. Yes, you can... you must."

He opened the back door and Christine meekly trailed behind him. Before she knew it he had fastened their baggage to Caesar and it was time...

He looked down at Christine.

"All packed... Ready for this afternoon." His eyes were begging her to comply.

_It's now or never._

"Yes." She said, turning to him. Did that mean yes...? He searched her face for the emotions she could not allow herself to show.

"Yes." She repeated quietly, nodding ever so slightly.

This was all he needed. In a second he had whisked her up onto Caesar and was about to jump up himself when something caught his eye as it fluttered to the ground; her note...

With the second he had to spare he bent down and picked it up without her noticing... He felt awful in doing so and her obvious ignorance to the occurrence only served to heighten his self-loathing. In spite of himself though, he was curious... Perhaps his jealous nature would get the better of him and he would read it. Perhaps he would not... it would have to wait. He would deal with it later...

Remembering the urgency of the situation he jumped up himself; the adrenalin momentarily masking any pain he felt.

_Yes. Yes. It had worked! Maybe they would get away!_

At the slight presence of the stirrups on either side of him Caesar took off and was quickly gathering speed. Just as Erik had expected, he heard voices shouting from behind him as soon as they had taken off.

"There he is!" A voice called.

"He's getting away!" Yelled another.

"Hold on, Christine." He yelled behind him. They raced around to the front of the house and down the dirt track. She held him tighter and shot a glance over her shoulder.

"They have horses, Erik!" She yelled. "How do they have horses!? They will catch us!"

"They won't." He said, hastening Caesar's gallop. They raced down the dirt track and took a left at the first opportunity. Travelling through the greenery was too much of a risk. Erik didn't know how many of these people there were or where they would be hiding.

Christine looked behind her again.

"They're still coming, Erik. There are more of them."

Erik shot a quick glance behind him to see five men hot on their heels. One of them looked familiar... He turned around again in an attempt to identify the face he recognized.

Then, he knew.

The face belonged to someone he had once known...

Then, the face had belonged to a boy he had seen around the gypsy camp when he was a child. He had seen this boy walking freely about the camp and had always wondered why he was not allowed to lead such a life; a life of freedom. One day, the boy had entered his tent. Foolishly, Erik had thought it a sign of friendship. He failed to see what there was to fear from a child like himself. In a severe error in judgement Erik had told this boy his plans of escape. That night he was beaten so badly that he was not... displayed for two weeks. He would never forget it. He still had the scars...

From that day onward the boy would be inside his tent; inside his cage whenever he was... ill-treated. As a child it hadn't made any sense; he had been just another spectator. He could not understand the child's betrayal but he never attempted to. Now it was all too clear. That boy had been his master's son...

And now, he wanted revenge... he wanted to claim back his prize winning trophy.

Erik's stomach lurched.

His chest tightened.

_That _was who they were...

_That _was what they wanted...

They would _never _stop...

"Christine..." He said.

"What is it?"

"Christine..." He began; his voice heavy. "I... I know who they are..."


End file.
